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9 I ^* 



MEDITATIONS 



LIFE 



RELIGIOUS DUTIES. 



TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 



FREDERICA. ROWAN. 



Publhhed by Her Majesty's Gracious Permission. 




LONDON: 
TRUBNER AND CO., PATERNOSTER ROW. 

. 1863. 

- lAll Rights rescri-ed'] 



' ^ % 55 



LC Control Number 



tiap96 031680 



H. R. H. the Princess Louis of Hesse^ 

PRINCESS ALICE OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND, 

WHOSE YOUNG LIFE 

HAS ALREADY GIVEN EVIDENCE OF 

THE RELIGIOUS EARNESTNESS AND SINCERITY 

INCULCATED IN THESE MEDITATIONS, 

THIS TRANSLATION IS, 

WITH THE GRACIOUS PERMISSION OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, 

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY 

THE TRANSLATOR. 



X 



The Library 
OF Congress 



WASHINGTON 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



Page 

REFLECTIONS ON THE OPENING OF A NEW YEAR • • • I 

PROVIDENCE . 13 

THE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD ....... 24 

THE IMPORTANCE OF RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES IN YOUTH • • 3^ 

men's estimate of LIFE . . . . , . ,50 

god's RULE . . . , • . # • • • •63 

THE POWER OF THE CONSCIENCE ...... 72 

PEACE IN JESUS . . . . . . . . .84. 

HOW IS THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE OF GROWTH IN PERFECTION TO 

BE CARRIED OUT IN DAILY LIFE? 

FIRST MEDITATION . ,. , . • . . 92 

SECOND MEDITATION . • IO4. 

THE POWER OF PRAYER . . . • . • • .II4 

LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD . , • • • . . ,125 

RELIGIOUS DEVOTION . • • • . . • -137 

CHRISTIAN FAITH • • • •• • .. , I50 

EVERY MAN HAS HIS PRICE . . . . . • . 1 64 

PATIENCE AND GENTLENESS SUBDUE ALL HEARTS . . • ^75 

LEARN TO RESPECT THOSE WHO ARE INFERIOR TO THEE • . 188 

SELF-KNOWLEDGE • • • 200 

EQUANIMITY OF MIND , • « , •• • .212 



VI r^BLE OF CONTENTS, 

anxiety about the future . • . . • • '223 

unmerited suffering • • • ^s^ 

god is my comforter . ..••••. 247 

god's voice in the human heart . . . • • .261 

the duty of setting a good example 273 

sins of omission • • • . 285 

man, the author of his own fate « . , , . 298 

GREATNESS OF SOUL . . , . . . . • , 'ill 



J» 



THAT Vv'HICH IS OF GOD MUST ULTIMATELY TRIUMPH 



-5 



MEDITATIONS- 



REFLECTIONS ON THE OPENING OF 

A NEW YEAR. - 

Thousands have fallen at my side, 

Struck by the hand of death j yet still 
I stand ; still feel with joy the tide 

Of fresh life through my being thrill. 
Who am I ? Wherefore dost Thou spare ? 

Why thus, O God, my fate direct ? 
Why guard me with such wondrous cave, 

And with Thy tender thought protect ? 

A careless dweller on thine earfli, 

I, Lord, am nothing — Thou art all ! 
Oh make my future life more worth. 

Throw o'er the past a covering pall. 
This year I'll consecrate to Thee — 

In air things seek Thy will to know. 
Righteousness all my joy shall be. 

The good seed only will I sow. 

Ee what thou wilt, O untried year ! 

God guardeth me, and all I love. 
Shall future days bring peril near ? 

Shall all my hours grief-laden prove? 
Or shall my better star's mild ray 

Shine forth, and fortunes's gifts o'erllow? 
Alike to me ! Care, doubt, away ! 

Whate'er is best will God bestow. — 

(Philipp. iv. 4-7-) 

The opening of a new year is a solemn epoch to all 
of US ; it is, as it were, a day consecrated to our silent 
hopes, our most secret wishes. Here the solemn 

B 



I 



: 



2 A NEV/ YEAR'S MEDlTAriON. 

peals of the early morning bells announce the inaugu- 
ration of a new period of time; there the sound of 
trumpets and bassoons, and sacred hymns, herald in 
the first morning of the year. Merry troops of girls 
and boys greet it with joyous shouts. Friends and 
acquaintances interchange cordial wishes ; pious chil- 
dren pray with greater fervour for the welfare of their 
benefactors, nations for that of their rulers. 

So, to all the transition from one year to another is 
of solemn import : to the sovereign on his throne, as 
to the beggar in his hovel ; to the industrious father 
of a family in the midst of his labours, as to the 
mother in the midst of her children ; to the old man 
in his easy-chair, as to the youth, who, full of hopes 
and expectations, longs to launch himself into the 
stormy vv'Orld. 

Behind us lies our past life, like a long dream ; be- 
fore us the future, like an unknown country, veiled 
in impenetrable mists. Gloomy mJnds are filled with 
melancholy forebodings, cheerful hearts with bright 
hopes. Each one looks forward to what the next 
days or months may bring ; each one would fain 
catch a glimpse of the fate Vv^hich lies concealed ia 
the dim future, as the seed lies germinating in the 
dark bosom of the wintry earth. 

Each one resumes in the nev/ year his usual task, 
and sketches out his plans and projects v/ith indefinite 
fears and expectations. 

The Christian also commences a nev/ course : he 
also is filled with fears. and hopes. But with what 
sentiments does he go forth to encounter at the be- 
ginning of a new year, the mysterious future and his 
unknown fate ? He seeks a short interval of solitude, 



A NEW TEAR'S MEDlTAriON. ^ 

in which his soul may possess itself. He lifts up his 
spirit in fervent prayer to the Almighty Father, and 
His all-embracing love, and his lips stammer forth the 
thanks of his heart. He says : "I am not v^orthy of 
the infinite mercy and love which Thou hast lavished 
upon me. What I am, and what I possess, I owe to 
Thee ! Thou hast guided me through a thousand 
dangers, many of which were not even known to me. 
Thou wert present when my sorrows and tribulations 
were greatest. Thou hast watched over me and mine 
while we slept. Thy warning hand has made itself 
felt whenever we have erred. Whatever has befallen 
me in the past year, I know it was for my good 3 and 
even if there be things, the bearing of which upon 
my true welfare I cannot as yet discover, I am con- 
vinced that in the future I shall see it more clearly. 
For the holy order according to which Thou rulest 
the world, is wise and wonderful, and directed towards 
the highest happiness of those whom it has pleased 
Thee to create. Yea, I also belong to this holy order 
of the universe, which is eternal and indestructible as 
Thou art. I, also, am counted by Thee as a member 
of it; and even the misfortunes that have befallen me, 
even those that I have not brought down upon myself 
by my own imprudence, which I had no power to 
ward ofF, which have lacerated my heart, and caused 
it to bleed — even these have been included in the 
order of Thy world from all eternity. And whatso- 
ever thou doest is well done ! " 

O Lord, my God, whose mercy is inexhaustible; 
O Father ! Father, full of unutterable goodness, do 
not abandon me ! Do not abandon me or those who 
belong to me ! Do not abandon us, even when we 

B 2 



A A NEW TEAR'S MEDrTATION, 

err ! For though Thy children go astray, they ever 
turn back weeping, to throw themselves on Thy 
mercy. 

Yea, O Lord, my God, Thou hast helped me so 
far, and thou wilt help me further. I look up to 
Thee with unswerving confidence. As a feeble child 
clings, full of love and trust, to mother and father, so 
I cling to Thee. I will follow the teachings of Thy 
holy Son, of my Saviour Jesus Christ, who brought 
us Thy word ; and then await v/ith calm resignation 
whatever Thou mayst have ordained for me and my 
dear ones in future years. 

I trust in Thee, and, thereR^re, I ask nought of 
Thee. Thou alone seest what is good for me and 
mine, and Thou wilt give and withhold what Thou 
deemest conducive to our v/elfare. 

Yet, O Omniscient God, Thou knowest that many 
ardent wishes agitate my heart : many insignificant 
wishes, v/hich I would disclose to no one, for fear of 
being misjudged; and others which I would fain utter 
aloud with burning tears, crying, oh, may they be 
fulfilled ! Thou knowest them. Father, though I dare 
not name them to Thee ; yet, my highest happiness 
depends upon their fulfilment. 

Nay, nay ! what words have I spoken ? Ami 
then wiser than the Allvvise ? Can I know before- 
hand what will constitute my future happiness — I 
who cannot even tell what will befall me the next 
moment of my life ? Nay, nay, all-wise and loving 
Father, I can but stammer forth my wishes like an 
ignorant child ; and Thou wilt fulfil those which 
Thou knowest will be truly beneficial to me. Into 
Thy faithful, fatherly keeping I resign myself, and all 



A KEIV TEAR'S MEDITATION. ^ 

those who are dear to my heart. We belong to Thee \ 
Thou alone art our God. 

Well, then, O my heart, discard all useless cares, 
all vain hopes, and await with calm trust the gifts of 
the beneficent Providence, that watches over thee and 
thine. Be not too hopeful, neither too anxious as re- 
gards the future. Either may prove injurious to thee, 
and may exercise a baneful influence on the plans and 
projects thou mayst entertain. 

Be not too hopeful ! Nothing is more likely to 
mislead a man than that over-confident expectation of 
success which will allow him to harbour no doubt as 
to the realization of what he desires, because it has 
some probability in its favour. This leads him to 
make all his arrangements precipitately, and, blinded bv 
his hopes, he lets himself be seduced into foolish un- 
dertakings. What the heart desires, it trusts w^ill be 
realized, forgetting how often it has been disappointed 
in its expectations. 

Be not too hopeful ; lest were hope to fail, thou 
shouldst lose coura2;e, and sink into despondency. In 
hoping too confidently, thou art only preparing for 
thyself bitter mom.ents, which thou mightst have 
avoided. Disappointed hopes ever leave a sting be- 
hind, w^hich makes us unjust to our fellow men, and 
even rebellious a2;ainst Providence. Yet we alone are 
to blame for having given ourselves up to idle dreamiS,. 
and to building castles in the air. 

. Hope not too confidently ! For this keeps thee 
unprepared for many a misfortune that may possibly 
befall thee. He who feeds his mind upon expectations 
of too bright a character, renders it effeminate and 
powerless to cope with the storms that may burst 
forth unexpectedly from all sides. The Christian 



6 A NEW TEAKS MEDITAriON. 

sage walks forward to meet the future, prepared for 
all things, armed with calm courage and resignation, 
as the brave soldier marches forward to meet an un- 
known enemy. With his eyes jfixed on Heaven, the 
Christian receives evil, like good, gratefully, as coming 
from the hand of the Eternal Ruler of the universe. 
Whether the next month is to bring him a wreath of 
unlooked-for joys, or a coffin wherein one most dear 
to him lies dead : he awaits both alike with Christian 
fortitude. 

Hope confidently for those joys only, which thou 
preparest for thyself, through the virtue and upright- 
ness of thy life. Such hope will seldom be disap- 
pointed. The virtues which thou mayst exercise are 
sure to bring thee joy even in this world. The evil 
habits, the faults of character which thou mayst con- 
quer, will reconcile those to thee who now perhaps look 
upon thee with contempt and detestation. The good 
quahties which thou mayst acquire 3 thy cordial man- 
ners 5 thy disinterested desire to be of use to others ; 
thy endeavour always to say as much good of others 
as thou canst ; thy zeal in attending to the business 
entrusted to thee ; thy repugnance to, and withdrawal 
from, all impure things — will gain for thee the love of 
those who now regard thee with indifference. After 
all, what constitutes the most lasting happiness of 
man ? Self-contentment, and the consequent esteem 
and friendship of every good person. If thou be not 
happy, who hinders thee from being so ? Why wilt 
thou not divest thyself of faults, of which thou art 
fully conscious, which repel other men, and by which 
thou despoilest thyself of peace of mind, of the 
calm peace of God ? Why dost thou foolishly look 
to others for a happiness which thou canst rear m^ost 



A NEW YEAR'S MEDrrATION. n 

lastingly with thine own hands ? Perhaps thou 
findest it too difficult to reform ; thou hast not the 
courage to begin. Well, then, I can no longer feel 
pity for thee ; thou lackest the resolution to be happy. 

Hope only for so much consideration and well- 
being as thou canst acquire by thine own industry and 
exertions. Count only upon thyself and upon God's 
blessing ; count not on the assistance of other men, 
on happy chances, on blind accidents, such as an 
unexpected inheritance, or a prize in the lottery, that 
may bestow riches upon thee. The' more completely 
a man relies upon himself alone, the less dependent 
he is on the favours of others : the greater, freer, 
nobler, he is, and the more capable of all that is good. 
Why, then, dost thou wish for increased consideration 
in the eyes of others, or for the acquisition of wealth ? 
Is it not because to possess these would flatter thy 
vanity ? Unworthy man ! to gfatify thy secret pride, 
thou wouldst have God to perform miracles, and 
to regulate anew the order of the Vv^orld ! He who 
cannot be content and happy with that which he is 
able to acquire by his ov/n labour and cheerful industry, 
verily, he is not worthy of greater gifts of fortune ! 

Hope only for so much satisfaction in the world as 
thou mayst prepare for thyself by thine own prudent 
conduct in life. I m.ust ever refer thee to thyself. 
Thou must be the creator of thine own happiness , 
for this purpose God has endowed thee with reason 
and understanding. 

Prudently avoid all dangerous and foolhardy un- 
dertakings j place thy household on a prudent footing ; 
choose thy friends with prudence 3 avail thyself pru- 
dently and zealously of every opportunity of honestly 



8 A NEW TEAKS MEDITATION. 

extending and improving thy business ; be prudent in 
thy relations v/ith people of different views from thine 
own, and of different rank, and thou wilt save thyself 
m.any anxious hours, and build for thyself a peaceful 
paradise within the circle in which thou livest and 
workest, which will bestow far higher happiness than 
all the fleeting images of mere hope. 

Look upon time as an unsown held, in which 
neither fortune nor misfortune will spring up of itself. 
Thou must first with thine own hands till the ground 
and sow the seed. And as thou sowest thou shalt 
reap. In this field pray, in this field labour, and 
God's blessing will attend thy exertions. 

If, then, an unexpected piece of good luck, or an 
unhoped-for jov fall to thy lot, it will but surprise thee 
the more agreeably, and make thee the happier. Ah, 
how bountiful is God ! how overflowing His good- 
ness ! In future vears also He will send thee joys 
which thou hast neither looked for nor prayed for. 

Be not over anxious I The fear of future evils is in 
itself the greatest of evils. Thou sufferest more from 
thy fears than thou art likely to suffer from misfor- 
tunes when they do come upon thee. Thou poisonest 
therewith thy health, and killest m^any a little joy, 
which may be blooming for thee in the present. Fear 
of the future is in many minds nothing but a bad 
habit. It is a gratification to them to be alwavs com- 
plaining, and to conjure up anxieties in connection 
with every subject. They inflict unnecessarj' tortures 
upon themselves, and, like madmen, destrov the real 
joys of the present. 

Be not over anxious ! It deprives thee of all 
courage, and thy very cowardice v/ill often lead thee 



A NEW YEAR'S MEDirAlION. q 

into trouble. Do not flatter thyself that thy anxieties 
and cares are the result of prudent forethought ; for 
the prudent man is calm in mind, he enjoys v/ith 
composure the pleasurable present, holds growing 
cares in check by hopes of better things in future ; 
and when at last the threatened hour of misfortune 
comes, he meets it with resolute action, calculated to 
diminish or to conquer it. The sailor, borne on the 
billows of the ocean, rejoices with tranquil mind in 
the favourable wind and the cheerful sunshine. Would 
it be better that he should be fearing storms, and 
looking forward to shipwreck, while everything is 
calm around him ? But the sky becomes overcast, a 
raging wind lashes the ocean into fury, rends the sails 
of his ship and threatens him v/ith terrible destruction. 
Fear and cowardice would only accelerate his ruin. 
But trusting in God, who is with him even in the 
midst of stormxS on the solitary waters, the sailor 
gathers up his waning strength, hastens to every point 
where his help is most needed, wrestles with wind and 
waves, and by his resoluteness and prudence saves 
himself from the danger. 

Be not over anxious ! But, if hitherto thou hast 
not been quite happy, reflect that things are ever 
changing. If thy present position be a disconsolate 
one, take courage, for surely it will not ever remain 
the same. Hast thou not yet learnt to know from 
thine own experience the ever-changing character of 
things ? If darkness reign around thee at present, be 
comforted, in a few days all Vv'ill be brighter ^ here 
below misfortune is as little lasting as happiness. 
Why should we despair because one sun sets ? Will 
not a nev/ morn dawn for us bevond the nii!:ht ? Take 



jQ A NEW TEAR'S MEDITATION, 

a full survey of thy present painful position, reflect on 
thy tribulations, and then say whether thou hast lost 
all ! Nay ! And even hadst thou lost all else thou 
hast not lost God. Why, therefore, despair ? — 
(Hebrews xiii. 5, 6.) 

Be not over anxious, for God will be with thee at 
all times. And should even every hope, every happi- 
ness in life be lost to thee, thou wilt still not be quite 
impoverished, for the inexhaustible source of every 
joy, of every good gift, the loving-kindness of God, 
has not deserted the world. If the hand of death 
have robbed thee of a treasure, of one of the che- 
rished ones of thy heart, why shouldst thou for ever 
weep over the grave of the beloved dead ! Turn to 
eternity ! Thou art being led by the hand of God 
towards the dear one whom thou hast lost here below. 
Is it human injustice that has inflicted injury on thee, 
or is it the cruelty of unfeeling souls, or is it the 
havock of war that has deprived thee of part, or 
perhaps the whole, of thy fortune ? Take courage 
and look up, for retributive justice rules above the 
stars, and thy tears also have been counted. 

Be not over anxious, but consider that the trials 
that fell upon thee in the past year, and which are now 
depressing thy spirit and depriving thee of all hope 
in better days — consider that they were but a test of 
thy Christian faith, a test but also a warning to thee 
how to conduct thyself in future troubles. Thou art 
created for another world, and not alone for this 
fleeting dream of earthly life. It is only throuo-h 
matured virtues, through tried wisdom, through 
greatness of soul, that thou canst become a worthy 
denizen of a better world. Evils exist that in enduring 



A NEW TEAR'S MEDITAriOX. 



II 



them and in struggling with them we may exercise and 
strengthen our souls. (2 Cor. iv. 17, 18.) Thou 
hast suffered ? Well, then, show me what thou hast 
learnt in the school of suffering. Hast thou become 
a better man or woman? If so, then thou wilt look 
forward without fear to the future and to the losses it 
may bring. Thou wilt look up to Heaven and exclaim 
with joyful trust : " The Lord giveth and the 
Lord taketh away, glory be to His Name ! ^' 

Fear no evil but such as thou hast brought upon 
thyself by thine own fault ! There is nothing man 
has to dread so much as his ovvm errors, his ov/n 
imprudence, his ovvm passions. Therefore fear not the 
future, but fear thyself. The future is sent by God, 
but by far the greater num^ber of miisfortunes and 
troubles are brought on by man himself. Live a 
Christian hfe, and whatever may befall thee, thou 
wilt lead a happy life ! 

Fear nought, if thou hast no reason to fear thyself! 
Lift thyself out of thy present painful and depressing 
position with manly, Christian resolution. Take into 
account all circumstances, reflect upon the best means 
of extricating thyself; brace up thy courage to apply 
them with all thy might, and to the best of thy under- 
standing. And v/hen thv strensith faileth, when thou 
canst do no more, God will do the rest ! 

Yea, Thou wilt help, divine Father, Thou who 
providest for the lowliest worm in the dust. Full of 
trust I will lean upon Thee, and Vvdiatever may befall 
me in this new year, nothing shall turn me away from 
Thee, or destroy my confidence in the Holy Word of 
Thy Son, J esus Christ ! What terrors can the future 
have for me v/hen I know Thou art there r What 



J 2 A KE>y TEAR'S A^EDITAriON. 

loss can dishearten me as long as I do not loce 
Thee ? 

I v/i]l walk in Thy sight in the year that lies before 
me, a better, v/iser, mere religious man than in the 
past, and with the new year I w^ill begin a new life. 
Whatever trouble, w^hatever sacrifices it may cost me, 
I am determined to conquer my faults, and the vicious 
tendencies which are ruining me in secret. 

And — should I not survive to the end of the vear^ 
should it prove my last — ah, may then not only the 
tears of friends shed at my grave, but also w.v own 
good conscience, bear testimony in my favour before 
Thee ! I will prepare myself for this. Should this 
prove the year of my death, it wmU also prove the year 
of my birth into a better world. Alay I die smnling 
in full trust in Thee, my God, and enter smilino- 
into that eternity in which new bliss awaits me in 
the midst of Thy wonderful and infinite creations. 
Amen ! 



I 



PROVIDENCE. 

Mine is a living faith — God ne'er will leave me — 

Should even hope's last anchor break, and care 

Make pale the glowing hopes that nov/ deceive me, 

I'll not despair. 

And tread I oft through wintry patlis, and dreary, 

Where Life's dark night no friendly gleam may share ; 
His providence sliall guide my footsteps weary : 

I'll not despair. 

(Psalm xxxvii. 5.) 

There may be hours or weeks of painful experiences, 
which lay low our strength, which extinguish all our 
hopes. There are times in ^hich misfortunes gather 
around us from every side, and which seem to unsettle 
our deepest and holiest convictions, and even to shake 
the faith of our souls in Eternal Providence. 

We behold with terror malice triumph, and right 
succumb; we see God-fearing Christians, who have 
fulfilled their duties modestly, and have done much 
good in secret, misjudged, scoffed at, slandered, and 
persecuted, v/hile selfish, cunning, shameless rogues 
are favoured by fortune in all their undertakings, and 
we ask ourselves, doubtingly, " Is there no Provi- 
dence watching from above the stars ? '' 

Alas! how many peaceful, pious, happy families 
have been the victims of the ravages of war. Of 
what have they been guilty, that their dwelling- 
places, the homes of every virtue, should be laid in 
ashes ? Of what has the father been guilty, that. 



H 



PROVIDENCE, 



bowed down v/ith sorrow, he should be destined to 
see the competence, to attain which he had laboured 
so untiringly, destroyed in a few brief hours ? The 
nights harassed by care, the days of wearying exer- 
tion, the sweat of his brow in which he toiled for the 
welfare of his dear ones, the sorrows and the hopes 
of a long Hfe — have they all proved vain ? The 
poor babe, v/hich was the joy of its father's and 
mother's hearts — how has he ofFended, that the greed 
of robber hordes should precipitate him and his 
parents into abject poverty — that he should be 
doomed through life to struggle with v/ant, and, per- 
haps, one day, when father and mother are gone, 
to wander, as a homeless beggar, from cottage to 
cottage^ asking alms of strangers ? We shudder at 
the sight of such unhappy victims, and ask, " Are 
the children of men left to be the sport of blind and 
cruel chance, or is our destiny ruled by a malevolent 
Providence ? " 

A mother, who refuses to be comforted, is kneel- 
ing by the bedside of her dying child. The beloved 
babe, whom she bore with pain, and whom she reared 
with tender care, lies, like a withering blossom, be- 
fore her, and the best joys of her life are fading with 
him. She raises her tearful eyes to Heaven, and 
then looks down again at the patient, angelic little 
sufferer. She kisses his pale cheek : he opens his 
eyes for the last time, and once more smiles, with 
sweet innocence, upon his doting mother; once 
more he stretches out his baby hand to meet hers, 
as if for a last farewell. Alas, he is loth to part 
from the faithful maternal heart ! But love is torn 
from love, heart from heart. The mother sinks 



PROVIDENCE. 



15 



down insensible by the corpse of her darling. All 
her sufferings, all her care, have then proved vain? 
All the hopes that she cherished, all tlie tears that 
she shed, have been cherished and shed in vain ? In 
vain were the prayers which she sent up from her 
solitude for the recovery of her child ? Her lot is, 
then, unspeakable sorrow here below, and on high no 
ear to hear her prayers ? Sunk in deep dejection, she 
gazes out into the night of existence, as if she were 
seeking for help, for salvation, for God ; and the sighs 
that escape her oppressed bosom seem to cry to 
Heaven, " If there be a Providence, v/hy does He 
forsake me ? " 

When devastating floods sweep away the home- 
steads of numberless families ; w^hen earthquakes de- 
stroy entire cities, and bury the inhabitants under their 
ruins ; when, as in a neighbouring country, mountain- 
tops fall dov/n^ and an entire valley, with its popula- 
tion of cheerful and happy shepherds, men, v/omen, 
and children, dwellers on the spot and strangers v/ithin 
their doors, are interred beneath the huge mass of 
earth, so that every trace of what has been is lost 
— who can remain untouched by fear ? Who can 
refrain from directing an inquiring look toward the 
mysterious provisions of Eternal Foresight? 

Yea, there are moments, hours, weeks, of anguish, 
which lay low our strength. There may be in our 
lives a simultaneous concurrence of unhappy circum- 
stances w^hich shake even the faith and trust with 
which the Christian leans upon Providence. There 
are times in which everything seems to conspire 
against our happiness ; in which there is nothing we 
can reckon on with confidence; when unexpected 



1 6 PROVIDENCE. 

events occur which seem to depriv^e us of every 
support. In such dark hours, we are apt to feel as 
thouo-h we were alone in the v/orld — as thouo-h God 
did not exist for us — as though our weal and our woe 
were given over to blind chance. The faith in a 
guiding and w^isely-ordaining Providence, which had 
until then sustained us, now appears to us as a mere 
illusion of the mind — as a self-invented anodyne for 
our sufferings. 

But, if we reflect calmly, v/e soon find that 
Providence has not ceased to guide and to watch — 
that the Deity has not vanished from the world — 
and we recognize the causes which have in reality 
led to our v/ant of trust — which have shaken our 
faith. 

Who can deny that, in most cases, men do not 
think of Providence until misfortune overtakes them ? 
As long as they live contentedly in the midst of ordi- 
nary circumstances, they rarely, if ever, reflect upon 
God's guidance of the fate of those whom He has 
called into existence. In like manner, it is only when 
stretched on a bed of pain, that the sick reflect upon 
the happiness of health. As long as they were well, 
they disdained to think of illness, and gave themselves 
up to pleasure, until it was converted into poison. 
Not until overv/helmed v/ith misfortunes, breaking in 
from all sides, do men raise their eyes to heaven, and 
ask, oppressed by suffering, ''Does a good Provi- 
dence watch over me also?'' But when thus op- 
pressed and distracted by anxiety, their minds are not 
in a state to acquire any firm conviction of their living 
under the constant guidance of a divine Providence. 
Their hearts are too much occupied with other mat- 



1 



PROVIDENCE. 17 

ters to allow of their taking a calm and comprehensive 
view of the events of their lives. They think only of 
what they fear at the moment, they feel only their 
present ills ; and because their anxious souls are 
incapable of receiving a sudden conviction of the 
reality of God's wise government of all things — be- 
cause they cannot at once call to mind all the evi- 
dences of the exalted wisdom of the Divine decrees, 
which might, at other times, teach them the truth, 
they doubt and despond. They see only the mournful 
present, and discern not the consistency and plan of 
all existence. They detach the individual circum- 
stances, which are v^eighing heavily upon themselves, 
from the chain of millions of other circumstances and 
events with which they are intimately linked together, 
and it is not surprising that v/eak souls, unaccustomed 
to contemplate the wondrous government of the 
world, should mistake a part for the whole, the 
subordinate for the principal, and that they should 
believe themselves and the entire universe to be the 
sport of blind, lifeless chance. 

If, in days of greater calm and repose, when we 
were capable of meditating on higher subjects, we 
had accustomed ourselves to trace the mysterious hand 
of the Eternal Ruler of the world in the circum- 
stances of human life, our m.inds would have acquired 
a strength and a capacity in this direction, which even 
the greatest misfortunes could not destroy. Did v/e 
make it a rule in quiet hours to reflect upon the 
strange events of our own lives, be they pleasant or 
sorrowful, we should often find reason to exclaim 
with joyful surprise : " Yes, that was the hand of 
God ! " We should see how events, which at the 

c 



i8 



PROVIDENCE. 



time they occurred we looked upon as irreparable 
misfortunes, have borne the most blessed fruits in 
reo-ard to the entire course of our life^ or in regard to 
the welfare of those that belong to us. We should 
see that if this or another of our most ardent wishes 
had been fulfilled, v/e should not have attained our 
present position, or the happiness that we actually 
enjoy. We should be obliged to confess that many 
things for which we once laboured, prayed, and v/ept 
in vain, v/ould, had they come to pass, have destroyed 
our happiness and that of others. We should be 
forced to admit that many a terrible occurrence, which 
once produced a disastrous effect on our fortunes, has 
had the most beneficial effect on our hearts, and that 
we have to thank the change of mind thus brought 
about for many of the blessed hours of calm content 
v/hich we now enjoy. 

A Christian, accustomed thus to trace the guidance 
of human affairs by the all-wise hand of God, v/ill 
never, whatever may be the miisfortunes that befall 
him in life, lose his faith in the Heavenly Father and 
in His overruling Providence. A Christian thus 
trained sees no chance or accident in the universe, but 
everywhere harmony and ordero He will from the 
depths of his misery call out to God, but remem- 
bering hov/ often short-sighted man deceives himself 
in regard to his most ardent v/ishes, he v/ill add to 
each prayer for rehef : " But, O Lord, not as I will 
but as Thou wilt ! '^ He will lean v/ith a confidence 
that will strengthen his faltermg heart, on the wise 
decrees of God, in the same manner as a child 
continues to trust his father, though the latter treat 
him with seeming severity. 



PROVIDENCE, jQ 

Another source of men's want of faith in an Eter- 
nal Providence may be found in the thoughtless pre- 
sumption with which we arrogate to ourselves the 
power of judging of the whole course of the universe, 
while reflecting on the fortunes of a single individual. 
Senseless mortal, thou presumest to question and to 
judge that which is to effect the entire tenor of thy 
life, and thou canst not even predict with certainty 
what will be the events of the next hour ! Thou 
questionest the existence of an All-ruling Providence, 
because thou art incapable of seeing v/hat good may 
come of some misfortune, which has brought ruin 
upon cities and provinces. Of all the universe thou 
kriowest but a grain of sand ; of all eternity but one 
minute ! How, then, canst thou know whether that 
which to thine eyes seems grievous misfortune be 
really so, or whether it were felt as a misfortune by 
those whom it befell ? 

Thou doubtest God's Providence because thy li- 
mited intellectis incapable of understanding and com- 
prehending it ! He who would sit in judgment on 
the divine government of the v/orld must himself be 
God! 

We often complain of what to us seems baneful, 
and the wholesome effects of which as regards our- 
selves or the world in general, we are incapable of 
foreseeing ; and in like manner we find fault with 
events which man cannot bring about, and which man 
cannot prevent. 

But many things which appear very terrible to our 
imaginations, are much less so to those whom they 
befall. When earthquakes swallow up flourishing 
cities with thousands of happy families — when a crum- 

C 2 



20 PROVIDENCE, 

bling mountain buries beneath its masses of earth the 
population of a whole tract of land — what is it that 
constitutes the most terrific feature of such an event? 
— The death of these many individuals, their sudden 
disappearance from the realms of Hfe. Their death ? 
Is death, then, so terrible a misfortune ? Is not that 
last minute, in v/hich the great change takes place, 
the final goal of every human being ? Do not 
hundreds and thousands of the myriads of men who 
are dispersed over the surface of the earth die every 
day of the year, while, on the other hand, hundreds 
and thousands are born each day ? Would it be a 
great misfortune to die and be changed at the same 
moment as all those we hold most dear ? Would not 
many a husband willingly die with his dying wife ? 
Would not many a m.other willingly follow the darling 
child of her heart into the grave ? What, then, is the 
terrible misfortune of which you speak, O sceptics ? 
That thousands vanish in one and the same moment 
from the earth ? — But thousands are carried away 
daily by disease and other causes. That thousands 
were annihilated while indulging in one and the same 
dream. But what connection is there between a dream 
and a so-called misfortune ? What God does is well 
done ! " O the depth of the riches both of the 
wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable 
are His judgments, and His ways past finding out. 
For who hath known the mind of the Lord ? Who 
hath been His counsellor ? " (Rom. xi. 33, 34.) 

Upon the whole, the principal cause of our want of 
faith in a Divine Providence, is that we cling too much 
to that which is merely sensuous and earthly, to those 
things that concern the wants of the body only, and 



PROVIDENCE. 21 

that we do not make ourselves sufficiently familiar 
with the thought of the spiritual world, to which our 
souls belong. — To him, who, in thought, occupies 
himself as much with the world of spirit as with his 
material concerns, death is not a terrible evil. He 
knows that he lives in God, from whom, in whom, 
and through whom, all things have their being; and 
in God there is no death. The loss of wealth cannot 
either be a terrible evil to a Christian ; that is, to a 
truly wise man. Nay, it is only to those who have 
lived exclusively in and for their earthly possessions 
that the loss oF these can be the greatest of evils ; and 
how could a Christian, a true sage, live principally for 
that which he knows is only lent to him, which he 
cannot retain, which is ever changing ? And how 
should he tremble for that which he knows passes 
from one death-bed to another, from one heir to 
another r To him v/ho has not placed his greatest 
good in that which belongs to the dust, the loss 
of that which is, and ever v/ill rem.ain, dust, can- 
not be the greatest of evils. Indeed, as regards 
many a man, it is necessary that he should first 
grow poor to enable him to raise his thoughts to 
his higher happiness — to the happiness of belonging 
to God, and of being destined for a more exalted 
existence. 

Frequently, however, it is only a momentary state 
of dejection that causes us to swerve in our faith 
and trust in an Eternal and All-ruling Providence. 
Thinking only of his own littleness, and forgetting 
the nameless perfection of God, man sometimes says 
to himself, '' God is too exalted, of v/hat importance 
to Him can be my humble concerns or wishes, or 



22 PROVIDENCE. 

the weal or v/oe of every insignificant being in the 
world ! " 

Of what importance ? Art thou not the creature 
of God ? And is not God the Most-high, the All- 
perfect, v/ho has organized, and who sustains the 
boundless universe ? Whither art thou led by thy 
despondency ? Thou degradest the v/isdom and the 
power of the Deicy to a level v/ith the limited under- 
standing, and the limited power of a mortal, v/ho is 
unable to embrace all things. Thou comparest Him 
to thyself, poor worm, and measurest the Creator by 
the standard of the created. 

Canst thou believe that He who guideth and 
ordereth the course of the stars, those myriads of 
worlds, through the infinite realms of space — that 
He who binds even the smallest grain of sand on 
the globe v/ith invisible bonds, so that it shall not 
be lost out of the world ; — that He who watches over 
the minute insects, which, in the form of mildew, 
rejoice in life on the leaf of a rosebush, which is to 
them their world ; — that H^e who ruleth the great 
realm of dead forces with infinite wisdom \ — that He 
would leave uncared for, or forget the spirits, v/ho, 
far nobler than any dead forces, are able to praise 
Him, to call Him by name, and to worship Him ? — 
Forget ! What an unworthy idea hast thou formed 
of the All-perfect One ! If He be God, He must 
be infinitely perfect ; and if He be this, then His 
omniscience. His mercy. His wisdom, and His all- 
embracing love must be as infinitely perfect. With 
out His v/ill, as Jesus tells us, no sparrow falls to the 
ground ; and He numbers the hairs of our heads. 
" Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field^ 



PROVIDENCE, 27 

which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, 
shall He not much mxore clothe you, O ye of little 
faith?" (Matt. vi. 30.) 

O Eternal, Unsearchable, All-merciful Being, 
whom I call Father, v/ho sustaineth all things, who 
ordereth all things, who guideth all things ; Thou 
rulest my destiny also! Thou hast ^ never. Thou 
wilt never abandon me, though all else fail me here 
below. Calmly and confidently, I walk in the 
mysterious path along which Thy invisible hand 
guideth me ; for I knov/ it leads to Thee. I honour 
and worship the wondrous ways of Thy Providence, 
and of the eternal laws that govern the world ot 
spirits which Thou hast created ! — I honour and 
worship, even when the light of my understanding 
sufficeth not to compass them ! For all things come 
from Thee, O infinite and merciful Father ! All 
things come from Thee ! All .paths lead to Thee ! 



THE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD. 

The child In spotless Innocence 

Upon its mother's breast, 
Sorrow and sin as yet unknown, 

Sinks tranquilly to rest. 

Ah, guard this innocence divine ! 

Keep it unstained and pure — 
A holy temple, at whose shrine 

The child may dwell secure. 

For all earth's false and specious show, 

Wealth, fame, all worldly bliaS, 
Can ne'er such happiness bestow, 

Or yield such peace as this. 

Pxcligion ! it is thou alone 

Can keep him safe from ill : 
Oh, let thy shield be o'er him thrown, 

Thy love surround him sdll. 

Then, tho' temptation may assail, 

Or scorn his darts may fling j 
Strong in thy strength, he shall prevail, 

Nor feel repentance' sting. 

Thy wondrous care the innocent 

Through every fate can guide, 
Pure as from God, he first was sent. 

Home to Jehovah's side. 

(Luke ii. 40-47.) 

Happy, guileless childhood, ima^e of the innocence 
of paradise, of man's life in the garden of Eden ! 
May religion be the angel which early opens every 
child's heart to God, which early arms it against the 
might of the passions, and which leads its innocence 
unscathed through the storms of life, through the 



THE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD. 25 

days of temptation, through the various changes of 
fate. 

In vain w^ould ye keep back the name of the 
Heavenly Father : every child has a mysterious feel- 
ing of His presence, and vi^ill from time to time 
surprise you with questionings about the Creator of 
heaven and earth ; about Him v^^ho sends forth the 
sun and the stars each in its time ; whose lightnings 
shoot through the skies, and whose thunders cause 
the earth to tremble. — Why would ye withhold from 
him the name of God and of His only begotten Son, 
Jesus Christ, as you must either satisfy the child's 
curiosity, or give it a falsehood for a truth ? 

It is in vain that with mistaken prudence ye refuse 
to teach him the name of God ; he will hear it from 
the lips of his play-fellows, and then, perhaps, connect 
it with unworthy conceptions. Father, mother, try 
to be the first from whose Ifps your child hears the 
name of the Heavenly Father, and from whom he 
learns to know that He is ever present ; ye will then 
have it in your power to instil into the young mind 
such ideas of the highest Being as ye approve ; you 
may then help it to form such conceptions as are best 
suited to its undeveloped power of comprehension 
and its limited experience. A child has faith in its 
parents, and in this faith it will believe even what it is 
not capable of comprehending. 

Say to it : " We are indeed thy father and thy 
mother, but God is our Father and the Father of all 
men living. He is invisible to us, yet He is never- 
theless everywhere present. Vv^ithout Him nothing 
would be in existence ; v^ithout His love for us no 
blade of grass, no ear of corn, no fruit would grov/, 



26 "^^^^ RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD, 

no flower v/ould bloom, no animal would breathe. 
Unless He wills it nothing can befall us, either good 
or evil. Thy mother is indeed a kind and loving 
friend, but God is kinder than she, and loves thee 
even better. Thy father knows a great deal, and can 
do a great many things, but God's knov/ledge is far 
greater than that of thy father, and He can do more 
than ever man could do." 

Speak thus to your child, and he will listen with 
curiosity and astonishment and reverence to what you 
say of God. He will never lose the remembrance of 
this Heavenly Father of all ; he will divide his love 
betVv^een you and the holy, almighty, and loving, 
though invisible, Being, who provides for all creatures, 
and is the friend of the highest as well as of the 
lowest. 

In that hour in v/hich for the first time you speak 
to your child of God, you lay the germ of religion in 
his heart. This germ will not fail to take root, and 
you will one day see it bloom into sweet piety. 

Bestow upon your child religion, and you will find 
the task of educating him greatly facihtated. Religion 
will help to ennoble his heart when your influence 
has reached the limit beyond which it cannot pass, 
and under circumstances that your watchful eye can- 
not penetrate. You can forbid the child to act 
wrongly ; but the remembrance of the existence oi 
an omniscient God can alone withhold him from 
thinking evil. You can punish the disobedience 
which you see ^ but the disobedience which you do 
not see can only be reproved by the religious senti- 
ment. 

But the thouo-ht of God must not be all that the 



THE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD. 27 

child's religion comprehends ; the spirit of the Chris- 
tian religion, the holy spirit, must also penetrate the 
hearts of the little ones. And the spirit of true Chris- 
tianity is love, as God Himself is love. — It is your 
duty to open the heart of your child, so that this holy 
Christian sentiment cm enter it. Religious conver- 
sations or religious teachings will not alone suffice 
for this. Your lessons may sink into the memory of 
the child, but his heart may remain untouched. 
Your example, your conduct in life, will effect more 
than all your teachings. Show the child that you love 
it even when you are inflicting punishmient for a fault, 
and he will love you in return. Tell him no false- 
hoods, and he v/ill blush at untruth, and meet you 
with open candour. Treat all persons v/ith respect, 
or at least courtesy, and your child will not be repul- 
sive and harsh to others. Hold sacred the property 
of others, and he will touch nothing that does not 
belong to him. 

Inexperienced youth follows blindly in the footsteps 
of its educators. Forget not, O parents, that you 
have mostly yourselves led the way in the path in 
which your child has lost himself; and that the love- 
able qualities that adorn him are often but a reflex of 
your virtues. Therefore, if you would have him 
honour God and religion, show him in your words 
and deeds what religion, what fear of God is ! Never 
take in vain the holy namie ; never show indifference 
to pubHc worship ; never evince inattention and want 
of reverence when at prayer. 

Let your child see you pray. Take care that your 
prayers, that is, your communions with God, be it in 
the morning, or the evening, or at your midday meal, 



28 "THE RELIGION OF CHILDL'COD. 

be offered up in his presence v/ith deep-felt devotion. 
The child cannot as yet pray with you, but demand 
from him at least the outward signs of reverence to- 
wards the Most High. Do not fear to make him 
thereby a hvpocrite. Uncorrupted children cannot 
be hvpocritical ; they will soon seek a reason for 
these outward signs of reverence, which make more 
impression on them than words. Then explain to 
them what prayer is. Speak to them as follow^s : 
ct \Ye erown-up people, as well as you httle ones, are 
the children of the good God. All that we possess 
we owe to His great love for us. Therefore we thank 
Him for all the good He bestows upon us. There- 
fore Vv^e implore Him to remain in future also our 
loving Father, who v/ill provide for us. And when 
we speak to the invisible God, it is but right that we 
should do so with the reverential bearing that beseems 
children when addressing their heavenly and almighty 
Father," 

Not until the child has acquired some settled idea 
of the Deity, His power, and His love — not until he 
is capable of turning spontaneously to God v/ith a 
prayerful heart — should you teach him to pray. But 
this teaching to pray, be it undertaken by father or by 
mother, let it not be a mere teaching to utter words 
without thought, but a guidance to true communion 
with God. Therefore take care that your children 
do not learn forms of prayer by rote. What children 
repeat from m^emoiy seldom makes any impression on 
their hearts. It becomes a matter of mere habit, an 
indifferent daily custom, pharisaical repetitions such 
as Jesus Christ so warmly reproved. Guard the in- 
tegrity of your children's minds and their reverence 



rUE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD. 



29 



for God. Forms of prayer learnt as a lesson, and 
which are above the comprehension of the child, and 
repeated by him quite mechanically — which are indeed 
sometimes even drawn up in a foreign language — 
cannot inspire him with reverence for God, or for 
religion, but, on the contrary, lead him to contempt 
for God, and to desecration of religion. 

Christian mother, take thy child once a-week, say, 
into thv room alone with thee. Tell him first how 
many benefits thou and he have already received from 
the All-good One, and how many more you still ex- 
pect from Him. Tell him this in simple words, 
which, coming from the heart, go to the heart. And 
when thou hast thus prepared the receptive mind of 
the child, then, O mother. Christian mother, go down 
upon thy knees, let thy child kneel beside thee, and 
pour forth from thy heart a few such words to God as 
thou knowest would be likely to arise in thy child's 
mind, such as his heart would speak to God. Thy 
child will repeat the words and will understand the 
supplication ; he will surely follow thee in thought 
also, and will pray and send up his thanksgiving with 
childish fervour. This is to teach a child to com- 
mune with God. Mother, in such momxcnts the 
Omnipresent hovers above thee and thy praying child, 
and His blessing will descend upon you ! And thy son 
or thy daughter will one day pray in secret, as thou 
hast taught them to pray. They will pray for thee 
with solemn devotion when illness has prostrated thee, 
and thou canst no longer lift thine own voice in prayer, 
and with this same holy devotion they will kneel be- 
side thy grave, praying in heart and truth, not repeat- 
ing mere empty words. 



OQ rHE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD. 

The child's worship of God in prayer ought to be 
voluntary, not compulsory. Compulsion destroys the 
joyfulness with which we ought always to approach 
God. Compulsion desecrates the most sacred act, 
and deprives devotion of its blessed influence on the 
soul. It is you, O Christian parents, who in the 
first case have to make your children's hearts recep- 
tive for devotion, so that the desire to commune with 
the Heavenly Father may arise spontaneously in them. 
By compulsion you may enforce the utterance of 
empty words, but not the sentiments of love, re- 
verence, and devotion. 

For this reason there is some risk in allowing chil- 
dren in whose hearts the religious sentiment has not 
been sufficiently awakened, to take part in public wor- 
ship. Their restlessness is apt to disturb the devotion 
of their elders, and renders it irksome to themselves 
to remain quietly in the church. The restraint they 
suffer necessarily inspires them with a dislike of the 
house of God, which is, however, generally not evinced 
until they have reached an age when they are at liberty 
to attend public worship or not, as suits them best. 
And, ye parents and educators, you cannot but know 
that the first impressions made on the heart of youth 
are generally the most lasting, and extend even to old 
age. Let us therefore be very careful that nothing 
that is in any way connected with religion, make a 
disagreeable impression on the hearts of children. 

It is but too true that the exaggerated, though well- 
meant zeal, of many parents who oblige their children 
at a very early age to attend public worship, has had 
the most melancholy results, and is in a great measure 
the cause of so many persons abstaining altogether 



rHE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD. o j 

from taking part in the public worship of any Christian 
congregation. 

Indeed, how can you expect a child to take an in- 
terest in listening to the Divine Word, when his 
understanding is not sufficiently matured to enable him 
to comprehend it ? How can we expect him to be 
devout in a place where his natural vivacity finds so 
many objects to divert his attention ? 

Nay, let your children's minds and hearts be suffi- 
ciently developed to understand the meaning of public 
worship before you allow them the privilege of appear- 
ing in the house of God. Do not force themx to an 
attendance at church, which they ought to desire 
ardently, and which they will in time come to desire. 
First make them acquainted with the exalted object 
of these Christian assemblies, and they will not fail to 
vWsh to take part in them. But make them at the 
same time acquainted v/ith *the lukewarmness and 
levity and indifference of many Christians : so that 
they may be prepared for and understand the un- 
seemly conduct of many whom they may see at 
church, and that they may be able to explain to 
themselves how it is that Christians may be seen 
praying . in temples, who, outside of the tem.ple, are 
heard to curse and to swear, and to bear false 
witness against their neighbour, and are known to 
commit perjury, and to give themselves up to all 
kinds of vices. 

Not until Jesus was twelve years old, and had grown 
in mind and wisdom (Luke ii. 40-42), was he seen in 
the temple. He sat among the teachers full of a holy 
desire for knowledge, and listened to them and ques- 
tioned them. In like manner^ the day on which you 



32 



riiE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD, 



take your children for the first time into the assembly 
of their fellow-Christians, will, and ought to be, one 
of the most solemn days of their life. The remem- 
brance of it will, in after years, always call forth 
pleasing emotions. 

But long before they pass the threshold of a temple 
to take part in public worship, they ought to have 
become true v/orshippers of God. It is not the tem- 
ple, or the altar that consecrates the heart ; it is the 
heart that consecrates the temple. It is not the 
church that leads us to religion, but religion that leads 
us to the church. 

Fill the hearts of your children with religious senti- 
ments, and they will one day mix in the public worship 
of the Christian congregations with deeply-moved 
souls. Previous to this let the whole world be a 
temple of God to them, and teach them to attach 
a religious significance to all the more irnportant 
events of their lives. 

Open to them, O Christian parents, beside the 
graves of their com^panions, and of friends dear to 
them, the first viev/ into eternity ; show them the 
mouldering dust that is being let dov/n into the tomb, 
and speak to them of the existence of the immortal 
soul which belongs not to the dust, but which, spiri- 
tual in its nature, is born independent and for infini- 
tude. However imperfect be the conceptions of 
childhood of the continued life of the soul in a more 
exalted state beyond the grave, they will suffice to 
make the hope of immortality take root in the young 
hearts, and to make the belief in retribution after 
death grow with their grov/th. And as they increase 
in age and uriderstanding, you will find many oppor- 



THE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD. oo 

tunities of correcting and ennobling their imperfect 
conceptions. 

Let no family festivity take place in your homes, 
O Christian parents, without in some way connecting 
it with religion, and thus consecrating it ; and do this 
more especially when celebrating the holy Christmas 
festival. If you do nothing more than inaugurate the 
day with a simple, heartfelt prayer, pronounced while 
surrounded by your children, — verily such a prayer is 
a true consecration of the most blessed day. 

In this manner the child begins 'its higher spiritual 
life, begins to live for God, and for eternity. In this 
manner religion becomes to the young heart an inde- 
structible sanctum, in which it will find peace and 
repose in the days of manhood and of old age. This 
religious instruction, adapted to the powers of child- 
hood, ought only to be gradually expanded as the 
child increases in age and knowledge. At length the 
time will come when he must be told of Jesus, of His 
deeds of love, and of His suffering for the human 
race ; but this must not be until the child is quite 
capable of forming a worthy conception of the great- 
ness of those deeds, and of those sufferings. Lead 
him not to the foot of the cross on which died the 
Divine Friend of man, until he is capable of shedding 
tears of deep emotion, of love, reverence, and grati- 
tude, before he can appreciate the bliss comprised 
in the thought of being a disciple of Jesus. 

Yet beware not to make the religion of childhood a 
thing of mere emotion, a mere play of the feelings. 
Do not merely excite the imaginations of the young, 
and rest contented with making them shed tears at 
the touching narratives you recount. No doubt such 

B 



2A, "THE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD. 

ebullitions of feeling in tender souls are not without 
their value ; but they are evanescent. Their very 
nature prevents them from being lasting. Point this 
out to the growing youth and maiden. Make them 
understand that pious emotions are only the blossoms 
of religion, and that fruits of their faith will be de- 
manded of them in the form of pious deeds ! Tell 
them that not the hearers of the Divine Word, but 
only the doers of the Divine will, are true Christians ; 
that we are not to glorify God in words, but by vir- 
tuous actions ; that whosoever does not in action 
give proofs of love, of humility, of obedience, of a 
conciliatory disposition, and of devotion to the public 
welfare : whosoever is incapable of sacrificing himself 
for the happiness of his brothers, as Jesus Christ 
sacrificed Himself, does not live with Jesus, does not 
live in God. 

O ye fathers and mothers ! let us consecrate to 
God the darlings of our hearts, whom He has en- 
trusted to us ! Impart to them during the earlier 
years of their lives the holy teachings of religion, so 
that their souls, penetrated by them, may acquire 
strength to encounter courageously and cheerfully 
whatever fate may be in store for them. You may 
then one day approach the throne of the eternal Judge 
with joyful hearts, and say : " Lord, here are they 
whom Thou didst entrust to me ! " Then, when 
death comes and separates you from them for a short 
while, you may depart v/ith the sweet hope of being 
soon re-united with them. For they will have walked 
in the path of salvation with you. They will have 
held in life the same faith, and cherished the same 
love as you. Their hope in death will be the same 



THE RELIGION OF CHILDHOOD. 



35 



as yours* And your destiny will remain indissolubly 
bound to theirs, as your souls v/ere indissolubly united 
in life. 

Yea, those that Thou hast united, O Father in 
Heaven, the grave has no power to separate ; and 
those who have bound themselves to Thee, through 
Jesus, cannot be dissevered from Thee. O sweet 
balm of Revelation, holy truth of Faith, penetrate the 
tender hearts of our children, and strengthen them 
and make them happy ! and Thou, O Holy Spirit of 
God, guide our children through the labyrinth of life 
towards the great and eternal goal of all spirits, to- 
wards the goal which Jesus disclosed to us, and to 
enable us to reach which He shed His precious blood. 
Amen. 



D 2 



THE IMPORTANCE OF RELIGIOUS 
PRINCIPLES IN YOUTH. 

With earnest g^ze, the soul of youth 

Looks up, O God ! to Thee. 
Clear Thou his mind to know the truth, 

Open his eyes to see. 

Towards his chosen goal he speeds, 

Through life with courage high j 
Ch, ne'er to him be noble deeds. 

Or virtue, mockery. 

Who God within his breast retains 

Till life's last course be run. 
Sorrow or joy alike sustains. 

For him the hght is won. 

■:Prov. li. I.) 

To thee, tender, emotional heart of youth, I dedicate 
these pages of lo\"e, of sanctilication, and of secret 
devotion. Nav, a loving Providence dedicates them 
to thee, by allowing them to fall into thy hands. — 
Wilt thou lay them by without heeding them : 
Surely, thou canst not be so inditrerent to thine own 
welfare. 

Thou hast attained the age when even' day vrill 
make thee more independent of those who have 
hitherto had the care of thy education, and will make 
thee more dependent on thyself. Thv parents may 
die ; thy older relatives may die, and at length all that 
belonged to thy childhood vrill vanish. Soon thou 
mavst stand alone in the world. Soon thou mavst 



RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES IN TOUTH. 37 

know what it is to be thus isolated in life, to have no 
one to lean upon but one's-self ! Ever since thou 
didst draw thy first breath, and up to this moment, 
thou hast been watched over by loving and devoted 
hearts. Now thou must fall off from the parent 
stem, like a ripe fruit. Thou must learn to take care 
of thyself, and thus learn to take care of others too. 

Long has this moment been anticipated with dread, 
by those who love thee most. Be assured the heart 
of father and of mother have often throbbed with 
anxiety at the thought of it. Perhaps as yet thou 
canst not see wherefore, but one day thou wilt under- 
stand it. As for thyself, thou hast probably been 
longing for the day that would free thee from control, 
and allow thee to live independently. Thy childhood 
has probably seem.ed to thee to be too long protracted. 
Well, thou hast now escaped from it. But I tell 
thee, that a day will come, when thou wilt look back 
to it as to a lost paradise, and wish that it could re- 
turn. I tell thee thou wilt soon cease to be joyous 
and guileless as thou hast hitherto been. Perhaps 
thou art already no longer so. For many a year thou 
wert guarded by the prudence and strength of others 
from unforeseen evils and troubles. Hereafter thou 
must guard thyself. And yet, alas! it is to thyself 
that thou wilt, though unconsciously, owe the greater 
number of troubles that will befall thee. 

Dear soul, even on the threshold of life truth bids 
me meet thee with the sad prediction, that much suf- 
fering, much unhappiness awaits thee. Nay, smile 
not incredulously, for ere long perhaps thou wilt 
peruse these pages with tearful eyes. 

But how art thou to guard thyself, thou whose 



38 



THE IMPORIANCE OF 



Strength is still unpractised ? How art thou to guard 
thyself, thou, whose experience, whose knowledge, is 
still so limited ? How art thou to guard thyself v/hilst 
standing so alone in life, with no one on whom thou 
canst depend, whilst perhaps betrayed and abandoned 
by those in whom thou didst most confide ? 

What is to be thy shield ? How art thou to grow 
strong in the midst of the storms of life, and wise 
in the midst of the confusion of unknown circum- 
stances ? — I will tell thee. Not by thine own power, 
but through the aid of a higher Power, who watches 
over thee — through the power of God. Many that 
are stronger than thou have fallen, because, relying on 
their own strength, they leant not upon God. Thou 
iilso wilt fall, unless thou boldest fast by Him. 

It is thy duty to guard thyself, and thou canst do 
it. But not by thine own wisdom, but by following 
the guidance of One far wiser than thou, who died 
that thou mightest be saved. Thou canst do so, 
taught by the wisdom of the Divine Man, whom, 
during two thousand years, the wisest of mortals have 
called their Saviour — by the wisdom of Jesus. Many 
that were cleverer than thou art, have fallen, because^ 
relying on their own cunning, ability and arts, they 
abandoned Jesus, or because they had never known 
Him. Verily, I say unto thee, unless thou followest 
Him, thou also wilt fall. 

Dost thou know Jesus Christ ? Ever since thy 
childhood thou hast seen thousands and thousands 
praying in His name in the temples of God. The 
learned and the ignorant, rulers and people, old men 
and young children, the rich and the poor. All pro- 
nounce the name of Jesus with deep reverence. Dost 



RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES IN YOUTH. 



39 



thou know Him ? Dost thou confide in Him ? Dost 
thou venerate Him ? Or hast thou remained indif- 
ferent to Him ? Dost thou think the whole world 
mistaken and thyself alone in the right ? 

Thou art baptized in His name, and hast thus been 
adopted into the community of the millions and mil- 
Hons who are strengthened, exalted, and made holy 
and happy by His Spirit, by His living words. 
Therefore art thou called a Christian. But dost thou 
know Christ ? 

Thou hast taken the communion ? What emo- 
tions held possession of thy heart in the solemn hour, 
before thou didst approach the altar ? Was not thy 
heart penetrated by holy feelings when publicly, as 
well as inwardly, standing before the altar, thou be- 
camest for a moment, as it were, one in body and 
spirit with Christ ? But dost thou know Him ? 

It is He who binds thy immortal spirit to the loving 
God, to the Father of the infinite universe, who is 
also thy Father. It is He who links the days which 
thou livest upon earth, to the days of another life into 
which thou wilt enter in the hour of death. He that 
Goeth this is Jesus, the divine Son ! And this linking 
of our souls to God and eternity, which we have 
learnt from Him, is Religion ; and when in solemn 
earnestness thou dost knit this bond, thou art truly 
rehgious. 

While thou art still fresh and young, and engaged in 
the pleasures and occupations of youth, it seems, per- 
haps, too much to demand of thee that thou shouldst 
earnestly devote thyself to religion. But, verily, it 
only seems so. Can it ever be too early to acquire 
lasting peace of mind, lasting cheerfulness of soul, 



^Q 1HE IMPORTAhXE OF 

lasting inward happiness ? Certainly nor. Religion, 
therefore, can never come too early to you. A pious 
old man may be venerable, a mother in prayer may be 
a touching spectacle, but a religious youth, a religious 
young maiden, are not less venerable, and are by their 
very piety made the more attractive in the eyes of the 
world. 

Why should the seriousness of religion be unsuitsd 
to thy years ? It is true the thought of God and 
eternity is a serious thought, because it is the most 
exalted one that mortal man can think and utter. 
But it is the very solemnity of the thought that fills 
the heart with the purest joy ; that will guard thee 
from many faults, and therefore keep thy conscience 
clear ; that will inspire trust in a loving Providence, 
and render thee fearless of whatsoever may befall thee. 
The most religious man is also the happiest. The 
irreligious man oscillates between extreme gaiety and 
extreme melancholy : he is seldom of equable temper, 
and is more unhappy in mind than the reverse, even 
when he seems joyous and content. Religion, far 
from making us moody and dark, gives a new zest 
to our joy, while in the hour of suffering it lends to 
the mind that serene magnanimity, the experience of 
which is sweeter than any worldly pleasure. 

Think not that thy friends have no religion, because 
they seldom speak of religious matters. There are 
hours of solitude, in which they fold their hands — in 
which their hearts tremble, and their eyes are raised to 
heaven, and their spirit cornmunes with God. But to 
every feeling mind religion is what it holds highest and 
most sacred, and therefore they shrink from exposing 
it to the vulgar gaze of the many. Each one shuts 



RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES IN YOUTH. 



41 



up the jewel In his own heart. Each one knows how 
he stands before God. Why should he make it a 
subject of common conversation with others ? Of 
what avail would this be to himself or to others ? He 
would perhaps only run the risk of being misunder- 
stood and misjudged. 

Think not that even those persons are without reli- 
gion, who, from vanity or thoughtlessness, and in order 
to be looked upon as unusually clever and witty, forget 
themselves so far as to scoff at religious observances, 
religious acts, and religious doctrines. We ought 
never to scoff at that which is sacred in the eyes of 
others, and which leads them to good. But even 
scoffers are rehgious in the depths of their hearts, and 
in spite of their thoughtlessness. The misfortunes 
that befall them, the forewarnings of death, the threat- 
enings of the future, urge them to pray, and they, who 
often laugh at prayer, pray. They who would fain 
persuade themselves that they doubt the immortality 
of the spirit, nevertheless look trustingly forward to 
eternity, because the laws of their nature bid them do 
so. Relisiion has not been invented or made. It is 
the very breath, the thought, and the life of the spirit. 
Therefore, it is not we alone — our times alone — that 
have a religion ; all times have had one. And it is 
not only the civilized nations of our times that 
have a religion ; but the wild Indians beyond the seas 
have one, and had one before they became known to 
the rest of the world. It is true, their religious ideas 
are confused, puerile, very faulty, because the mental 
capacities of these people have been misguided, or 
have not been developed or exercised. In like manner 
our religious notions, in early childhood, were very 
puerile ; and now that we have attained to a higher 



A 2 ^-^^ IMPORTANCE OF 

Stage of mental development, and possess more know- 
ledge, they seem to us almost ridiculous. But, though 
the barbarous savage may v^orship the creature instead 
of the Creator — though he may make offerings to the 
Deity of slaughtered animals, instead of offering up a 
pure heart — the relation he establishes is, nevertheless, 
religion, and what he feels is religiosity ; it is a linking 
of his spirit v/ith the Invisible, the Eternal, the Un- 
known. And this is the great merit of Christ, that 
He came into the world to guide humanity from dark- 
ness into light, from the perishable to the imperishable, 
from error to truth ; to release us from the bondage 
of sin, and to raise us up into the sanctuary of God. 

In fact, none are entirely without religion, except 
madmen and confirmed sceptics ; and the latter, as 
well as the former, may be considered sick in mind. 
The tendency to scepticism, with its accompanying 
v/retchedness, is generally experienced in the years 
that intervene between the attainment of majority and 
riper manhood. It will frequently be found that per- 
sons who, as children, believe, pray, and love, with 
true child-like simplicity, but who, when at a mature 
age they enter the world, and begin to inquire and to 
think for themselves, become the prey of religious 
doubts, at a more advanced period of life again recover 
their faith, their convictions, and their lost peace of 
mind. 

It would, however, be a mistake to suppose that 
the religious scepticism which so frequently embitters 
those years in which the mental powers begin to 
develope themselves, is a consequence of the great 
mental insight then attained by the youth or maiden. 
On the contrary, they have only just emerged from 
childhood 5 their experiences, in regard to the world^ 



RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES IN YOUTH. 



43 



to nature, and to the destinies of men, are still very 
limited, and their judgment, consequently, still very 
unripe. Their scepticism, therefore, arises rather 
from want of insight, and from a false use of their 
mental pov/ers. 

At the age wh^n the understanding is only begin- 
ning to put forth its strength, the imagination very 
frequently usurps its place. Many things v^hich, in 
childhood, have been accepted and believed in, now 
prove, by closer investigation, to be untenable or 
unworthy of credence, or even contrary to common 
sense ; they are, therefore, discarded, and the mind 
is alarmed. Distrust of other doctrines of the Church 
is engendered ; these also are submitted to investiga- 
tion, and thus doubts arise. Books are read without 
any previous inquiry into the worth of the writer y 
dissentient judgments are "accepted as irrefutable ; 
witty remarks are taken for arguments ; and mere 
appearances are considered undeniable truth. Thus 
the confusion of mind becomes ever greater; the 
tendency to doubt everything formerly believed in 
increases in strength ; and, finally, everything is 
rejected, nothing is believed. The consequence of 
this is real inward irreligiosity — the most painful state 
of mind to which a human being can be a prey, 
because it is unnatural, that is to say, is in direct 
opposition to the feelings and the nature of the spirit. 
The connection between the latter and the living 
God — the Eternal Existence — is destroyed. You 
feel yourself alone in the great universe. All reli- 
gious persons are in your eyes deceivers or dupes. 
The world and life become dark enigmas. At last, 
the sceptic even learns to doubt himself. Existence 



AA THE IMPORTANCE OF 

has no more joys for him, and suffering knows no 
consolation. He longs to return to the blind faith of 
his childhood, yet feels that it is impossible to do so. 
He pines for light and rest, and abhors his doubts, 
yet has neither strength nor courage to believe. 

This unhappy state of conflict goes on , the sceptic 
can come to no conclusion, because he is ever de- 
ceiving himself anew, and attempting impossibilities by 
endeavouring to apply the measure of the feelings and 
the imagination to that which can only be fathomed 
by pure reason. The eternal cannot be grasped by 
the imagination, and therefore he rejects it, while he 
expects to obtain certainty as to the spiritual and the 
invisible, in the same manner as he obtains it as to 
corporeal and visible things. He now proceeds from 
one contradiction to another ; he acknowledges that 
he can form no conception of his own spirit, -yet he 
does not deny its existence and its mysterious action. 
But the existence of the Godhead and His mysterious 
action, the sceptic doubts, because he cannot under- 
stand it in the same way as he understands other 
things. Yet every day and every hour God speaks 
to us through His great and loving activity in us and 
out of us, in like manner as our spirit announces 
itself through thoughts and words. The nature of 
things is the thought and the word of God to the 
human spirit. 

The constant mistake of the sceptic is, that he 
demands to see that which is invisible, and to have 
that which is not earthly and not human, demonstrated 
in an earthly and human way. If the existence of our 
own spirits can be proved, proof is at the same time 
afforded of the existence of God. For that a Deity 



RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES IN YOUTH. ^r 

rules the world is revealed to us, by Him^ in the laws 
of our thought, which are so constituted that they 
necessarily and invariably bring us back to this. This 
is the self-revelation of the Deity in the nature of 
man. Therefore have all nations of the earth from 
the beginning of time, and without having any inter- 
course with each other, believed in the existence of 
divine beings. 

No philosopher has ever expressed the all-ruling 
power of the living God in such ,simple and sublime 
words as those recorded in the Holy Scriptures which 
David spake thousands of years ago, and which are as 
comprehensible to the child as to the m.ost learned 
man: " He that planted the ear, shall He not hear? 
He that formed the eye, shall He not see ? He that 
teacheth man knowledge, shall not He know ? '* 

The first step tov/ards recovery from the mental 
disease of scepticism is to come to a firm determina- 
tion to avoid, even if it be for months or years, all 
those speculations on religious and metaphysical sub- 
jects that lead to doubt. Not until this has been 
done can the mind recover its former elasticity and 
freedom, and that simplicity which will make it again 
receptive for truth. Then the spirit will find God 
again — sometimes even without seeking Him — v/ill 
find the comfort of eternal life again, and the most 
blessed trust and the deepest peace. And it will 
understand what before was enigmatical 3 and will be 
astonished at having until then failed to recognize the 
simple subhmity, lucidity, and truth of the doctrines 
of Jesus. And the Gospels will inspire into the heart 
a quickening and divine strength. 

Religiosity is the all-penetrating light of the spi- 



46 



THE IMPORTANCE OF 



ritual world ; where it is not, there is darkness, 
confusion, destruction. In hke manner as noble 
reHgious sentiments give new youth to the spirit of 
the aged, so they render strong and manly the spirit 
of the young, and endow it with the wisdom of age. 
The youth or the maiden who is bound to God and 
to Eternity, will ever strive to think, to speak, and 
to act in a manner worthy of God and of Eternity. 
They have the consciousness of being even in secret 
at peace with God, the Judge who seeth in secret ; 
and in regard to the world their acts are such as they 
can answer for to Flim, to Whom even the m^ost 
powerful of the earth are responsible. 

The older we grow, the clearer our religious notions 
become ; the more thoroughly we understand the 
meaning of Jesus' words ; the more distinctly we see 
God in the wonders of the earth and the heavens ; 
the more gloriously does His government appear to us 
in the various events of our life. 

Therefore we ought alv/ays to keep alive the religi- 
ous sentiments and principles within us, without, 
however, parading them before the world. They 
ought to be expressed in reverence for all that is 
holy ; in tenderness towards the weaknesses of 
others; in kind judgment of our fellow-beings; in 
hearty readiness, to be of use to those who are known 
to us and also to those who are unknown to us ; in 
respect shown to our superiors ; in kindness to our 
inferiors ; in unswerving firmness in the performance 
of duty; in moderation in pleasure and patience 
under provocation ; in imitation of all that is good, 
and in abhorrence of all shameful and forbidden acts 
and even thoughts. 



RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES IN TOU'TH. aj 

However, man is weak. Noble sentiments evapo- 
rate, good principles are often forgotten. Common 
life with its occupations, its pleasures, and its many 
annoyances, overwhelms and conquers us, and drags 
us down into the slough of meanness and depravit}^ 
But we must make a strong effort to raise ourselves 
up. If we do not this we shall sink ever lower into 
mere animal life. 

Therefore if thou wouldst retain the religious 
character of thy mind in full vigour, thou must 
nourish it in thine hours of solitude. Nourish it by 
reading good religious works ; by reading the Scrip- 
tures — more particularly the life of Jesus, or the 
psalms of David, and the songs of Asaph ; and by 
attendance on public worship. 

Even these pages are devoted to keeping alive thy 
inward piety. Recognize in thp words here addressed 
to thee, the voice of father and mother, and of all 
good men who love thee, and who would fain see 
thee grow in goodness and in happiness. Recognize 
therein the voices of generations that hav^e descended 
before thee into the grave, but who address themselves 
to thy heart ; the voices of the blessed v/ho call to 
thee that thou mayest one day be blessed as they. 

Efficacious above all things, however, above read- 
ing and hearing — is immediate communion with God 
in prayer. Let no day pass without devoting some 
portion of it, be it an hour or even only a minute, to 
communion v^nth thy Heavenly and Eternal Father. 
In the morning when thou awakest from refreshing 
sleep, and in the evening when thou closest thine 
eyes to go to rest, first lift up thy spirit to the 
Eternal Spirit, and pray and offer up thanks, and 



48 



THE IMPORTANCE OF 



promises to mend thy ways b^^iort Him. Pray, as 
Jesus prayed, lovingly, trustingly, with entire resigna- 
tion : "Father, not as I will, but as Thou wilt!" 
Pray, as Solomon once prayed, not for earthly goods, 
not for aught perishable, but for wisdom and strength 
to overcome thy faults and thy passions, for power and 
opportunities to do much good, and ever to grov/ mors 
perfect as thv Father in Heaven is perfect. 

Christian piety is the highest wisdom, and makes 
those who possess it loveable in the sight of man and 
God. For that,wisdom enters not a mahgnant mind, 
and dwells not in a body given over to sin. But the 
souls of the righteous are in the hand of God : they 
are not cast down by suffering. Righteousness is 
im.mcrtal. Only through this, and through being; 
deemed righteous by Thee, O Holv, Eternal God, 
am I immortal, eternal, and blessed ! Is it possible 
that I should ever forget this ? That I should ever 
forget Thee : That I should ever forget the sacred 
vows that I have made to Thee, or all that Thou 
hast done for me, for my parents, and for all those 
that I love r Is it possiole that I should ever forget 
Jesus, the divine friend of my soul. He who by His 
light has led me to Thee ? He who, full of pity, 
died for me r 

Nay! To abandon Goc, is to abandon mvself, to 
give up my salvation. Nay ! Let me ever rem.ain 
Thy child, O my God and Father! Let me cling: to 
Thee, m.idst all the distractions of life I To Thee I 
will look up in the hours of joy vvhich Thou mavest 
send me ; and by Thee I v/i!l hold fast in the hour of 
trial when the last earthly hope forsakes m^e. For 
Thou Vv'ilt not forget me, nor overlook me 3 I know 



RELIGIOUS PRL\'CIPLES /.V TOUTH. .q 

this, Jesus has taught me this, and life also has taught 
it to me. In the hour of dissolution, when my dying 
lips stammer forth Thy name for the last time here 
below, I shall know and feel that Thou wilt not 
forget me, nor overlook m.e ! 

It is therefore far more possible that my soul should 
be dissevered from my body, than that I should be 
dissevered from Thee, Father in Heaven. I will seek 
for Thee in the works that Thou hast created, in the 
marvels wherewith Thou hast filled the universe. I 
will approach ever nearer to Thee through the know- 
ledge I have acquired through Jesus Christ, my 
Saviour, I will draw nearer to Thee by growing in 
virtue, and by shunning everj^thing sinful. Omni- 
present, Omniscient, Invisible God, who searchest my 
heart, as I would that Thou shouldest search it. Ah ! 
Thou knowest my weakness a,nd my thoughtlessness ; 
Thou knowest how often I fail. O Holy, Eternal 
Mercy ! strengthen me, hold me up, that I may not 
fall; that neither the seductions of my senses, nor the 
misleading example of others, nor vanity, nor am- 
bition, nor lust, nor flattery, nor hatred, m.ay draw me 
away from Thee ! 

God of my childhood, Thou wilt be the God of my 
old age also, and bound to Thee through Jesus Christ, 
I thus possess far more than all this world has to offer 
me. If I have Thee, I have inward peace, and, how- 
ever dark my life may be, I have the joyful prospect 
of a future existence full of bliss. Amen. 



MEN'S ESTIMATE OF LIFE. 

Man hasteth on from dream to dream, 

'Midst hate, and now 'midst love 5 
As if upon life's narrow stream, 
His bark some spirit drove. 
He looketh round, and seeketh happiness to clasp. 
And vanity and dust is all that meets his grasp. 

Be the world thine — 

Let fortune's sunlight gild thy mortal lot — 
Be lord of all earth counteth most divine — 
Yet Happiness, thou hast her not. 
Only to holy souls can perfect bliss be known j 
No fruit is she of worldly fame or gold ; 
In the bright spirit-world alone 
Her buds unfold. 

Not here will she be given, 
'Midst tumult and deceit: 
Thy prize thou'lt win in heaven, 
At Jesus' feet. 

(Philipp. ii. 13, 14.) 

Fleeting days ! fleeting years ! We await with im- 
patience the coming of flower-crowned spring, and in 
a short while we sigh, because it has already gone by ! 
What we call months, years, ages, before they come, 
we call minutes when they are gone. Childhood longs 
for adolescence, youth for riper manhood. Both ar- 
rive but too soon, and after these old age, also too 
soon. White-headed men look back with sad longing 
to the past, as to a dream. It was the same thousands 
and thousands of years ago. The generations of the 
past have long gone by ; their ashes have long been 



MEN'S ESriMAlE OF LIFE. 



51 



dispersed. But we, with our desires, our expecta- 
tions, and our regrets, we are still what they were. 
And as we are to-day so will our descendants be for 
thousands and thousands of years to come, when we 
and our families have long passed away and our ashes 
have long been scattered by the winds. 

This hurrying and pressing forward of mortals never 
ceases, and yet how soon comes the end to each man. 
Each century sees three new generations come into 
life and pass away. Yet all hurry arid press forward, 
as if life were never to end. They heap up riches 
and chattels, as though they were to provide for a 
century ; they quarrel, and make war, and negotiate, 
as though their rule were to last for ever ; they solicit 
and struggle for honours and dignities, as though they 
could grasp the infinite on earth ; they buy and chaffer, 
accumulate, and build, as thougli they were never to 
leave their treasures and their houses ; and then they 
descend into the grave, and bequeath the fruits of their 
labours to others ; and as they once rejoiced in their 
inheritance after departed relatives so others rejoice at 
what they inherit from them. 

While contemplating the toying and trifling, the 
working and toiling of men, one might almost be 
tempted to believe that there is no such thing as death 
in the world. Children, youths, and maidens, manhood 
and old age depart this life, yet those who remain seem 
to think that these alone were mortal, and that of the 
survivors none are subject to death. Men return from 
the graves of their friends or acquaintances either 
smiling or in tears, and then go their way and forget 
the dead, in like manner as soldiers on a battle-field 
behold with indifference their comrades falling on the 

E 2 



j2 MEN'S ESTIMATE OF LIFE. 

left and on the right, and the survivors shout their 
songs of triumph as though the victorv had been won 
by themselves alone. 

People speak about all matters ; about war and 
peace, about the partition of countries and nations, 
about their own plans, about their successful or 
unsuccessful undertakings, about entertainments and 
merry-makings, about enmuties, marriages, and vovages. 
But who ever hears conversation turn on eternir^', 
whether it be in numerous assemblies or even when 
two or three onlv are 2;athered together ? One 
might almost suppose that the belief in erernitv were 
an exploded fable, which no one any longer cared to 
hear repeated, or that such belief had entirely ceased 
to exist among men. And vet all this is but outward 
appearance. Nay, men keep silence about it ; but it 
stands before them, and their inward eve is almost 
constantlv fixed earnestlv and crloomilv upon it. They 
are silent, but believe ; perhaps they put on a smile 
of incredulity w^hen the subject is mentioned ; but 
they believe and tremble. Alaidens adorn themselves 
for the dance ; but even in front of their mirrors the 
thought of the grave flits through their mind. Indus- 
trious men count up their earnings ; but even while 
the gold is jingling in their hands the thought of 
death rises in their minds. Princes wrap themselves 
in their purple, and grasp the sceptre of command ; 
but even on the throne, in the full consciousness 
of their power, the thought oi eternity flashes in- 
voluntarilv upon them. Though all are silent on 
the subject, it is ever before them. Appearances 
are outward ; truth dwells hidden in secret in the 
heart. 



MEN'S ESTIMATE OF LIFE. 



53 



And thus each one silently connects his outer life 
with his inward life, but lets no one into his secret. 
Each one believes in God and in eternity ; but how 
he believes, and how he keeps his faith, that he 
divulges to no one. In the secret depths of his own 
mind only, he communes trustingly with God, and 
receives His revelations. Each one fears that were he 
to betray to others his secret of secrets, it might be 
desecrated ; and he feels that even the most delicate 
objection raised would wound him, though he might 
be little disposed to refute it j for that which we 
believe, and that which we are in our innermost 
being, that is our real self; and this we would not 
have any strange eye to behold, or any strange doubt 
to touch. That which v/e show to the world is but 
an outward garment of prudence — a mere semblance 
of ourselves. Each one knows this of his fellow- 
man, and respects his secret, and along with this his 
outward semblance, for each one demands the same 
respect for himself and for all others. 

It is not necessary to teach men that they live a 
twofold life here below, for every man knows by his 
experience that it is so. But the nature of this two-- 
fold life is different in each, according to the degree 
of mental development attained. One prizes his 
earthly, sensual life, more highly than his inner and 
eternal being ; another values both equally ; a third 
feels distinctly that the worth of this earthly existence 
is far inferior to that of eternal life. 

The rude savage, whose powers of mind are still 
undeveloped, and who therefore follows blindly his 
instincts, and seeks only to gratify the wants of his 
body; the child, who lacks experience, and therefore 



^A MEN'S ESTIMATE OF LIFE. 

lives but in the present, and plays with the flowers 
that grow on graves, without the slightest suspicion 
that he shall himself one day sleep in the earth ; the 
subtle thinker, who, misled by the false culture of his 
mental powers, and by the strength of his passions, 
has allowed himself to sink back into a state of 
animalism, and who, in his perversion of intellect, 
would fain persuade himself that everything is of the 
earth, earthy- — that evervthins; is chance — that when 
man breathes his last breath, ever)^thing is over — all 
these stand on the same level, on the lowest step of 
spiritual development. Still closely bound in the 
fetters of the body, like the animal, they have no per- 
ception of a higher life, or any idea of the elevation 
of spirit that renders it possible. The world in the 
midst of which they live is everything to them ; be- 
yond this, nothing has any value in their eyes. 

However, by far the greater num.ber of men have a 
certain inward religiosity, which bears more or less 
resemblance to the religion that they profess with their 
lips. They know that they will not cease to exist, 
though their bodies die ; they know that they have to 
prepare for a better life yon side the grave ; but their 
conceptions of the value of the present and the future 
life are still confused and imperfect. Too strongly 
attached to those matters which surround them daily, 
and which are pleasant to their senses, and agree with 
their tastes, they value this world as highly as they 
value heaven. They would fain enjoy all that this 
world has to give, and their greatest exertions are 
directed towards securing such enjoyment. At inter- 
vals, it is true, they also think of eternity, and flatter 
themselves that by repeating long prayers, by giving 



MEN'S ESTIMATE OF LIFE, ^r 

alms, by attending church, and by taking the sacra- 
ments, they will be able to satisfy the Deity, and to 
secure for their souls a higher and more blessed state 
of existence after death. These men see not the 
great general connection between the here and the 
hereafter. They would fain satisfy their animal 
desires here below, and yet hope to become suddenly 
higher spirits in the blessed abodes above ; they allow 
themselves to indulge here below in the works of the 
flesh, such as pride, deception, voluptuousness, and 
envy, and they hope, through the merits of Jesus 
Christ, or through the intercession of saints, to obtain 
pardon for all their sins, and to attain to perfection in 
the other world. Upon the whole, they belong to 
the present; the world is their chief concern ; as long 
as they are in it they give themselves up to it. To 
their short-sighted eyes eternity is too distant to be" 
clearly discerned. They are 'still too httle conscious 
of their dignity as spirits, therefore that which is 
earthly is of so much more importance in their eyes 
than that which is spiritual. 

The more a man himself is worth, the less worth 
has this fleeting world and all evanescent things, in his 
eyes; the more inclined he is to place God, eternity, 
and virtue above all else. He who has got so far as 
to be perfectly content with little, is he likely to care 
for heaps of gold ? He who has got so far as to 
discern how blindly men judge according to appear- 
ances only, and how little they, are inclined to ac- 
knowledge and to honour true merit, or to repay 
benefits with gratitude — is he likely to attach much 
importance to the opinion of the great multitude^ or to 
the acquisition of worldly honours and consideration ? 



^5 MEN'S ESTIMATE OF LIFE. 

He who has once tasted the bitter sorrow of being 
deprived of his fortune or of his good name by the 
mah'gnant deeds of evil-minded men, or has stood 
broken-hearted by the death-bed of a beloved object, 
be it mother, father, child, or friend — is he Hkely still 
to cling with blind passion to the goods of this earth, 
when he has learnt, by such painful experience, that 
he who attaches himself too strongly to that which 
must pass away, prepares for himself the most cruel 
sufferings ? 

On the other hand, the wise man who recognizes 
the nothingness of all earthly matters, and who for 
the sake of his own peace of mind refrains from 
attaching himself passionately to any of these, because 
he clearly discerns that inward, indestructible happi- 
ness cannot be based upon the fulfilment of external 
desires — that true peace and contentment of mind, 
far from being increased by the desire for luxury, 
honours, riches, admiration, can only be destroyed 
thereby — that the consciousness of having fulfilled 
great duties, of having freed oneself from the influence 
of the passions and of vulgar prejudices, that oneness 
with God, and walking through this chequered life in 
the exalted yet humble spirit of Jesus, can alone 
establish lasting happiness — he who feels this becomes 
a more divine being, and in his eyes hfe loses its value. 
Though his heart may from time to time beat more 
warmly for some one earthly object, he can neverthe- 
less repeat with truth the words of the wise and ex- 
perienced disciple of Christ, who was exalted above 
every earthly fate : " Brethren, I count not myself to. 
have apprehended : but this one thing I do, forgetting 
those things which are behind, and reaching forth 



MEN'S ESriMArZ OF LIFE. 



57 



unto those things which are before, I press toward 
the mark for the prize of the high calling of God 
in Christ Jesus." (Philipp. iii. 13, .14.) 

Is there one among us who, however perfect he 
may be, can say with truth : ^' I have already reached 
the goal ! I have accomplished my task ! There 
is nought earthly to which my heart clings with over- 
weaning love!'' Ah, he who can speak thus, must 
he not be more than mortal ? Let us therefore be- 
ware of forming exaggerated notions of what is meant 
by renunciation of the world. We still walk in the 
flesh ; our mortal bodies have their wants, which, in 
accordance with the will of the Creator, must be 
satisfied, if we would not become suicides. Until 
the YQry last moment of life, our sensual require- 
ments must, according to the eternal laws of nature, 
be satisfied. The instincts a/id desires which belong 
to our carnal nature are, in as far as they conduce 
to maintain life and bodily health, by no means sinful, 
but on the contrary pure and good. We are, how- 
ever, apt to make one or other of these desires too 
predominant, either by over-stimulation or by undue 
indulgence of it ; this engenders mental passion, and 
as a consequence immoderate attachment to some one 
earthly object or another. 

Man is, therefore, as lono; as he lives, encased in a 
constant struggle with the sensuous world, at one 
moment attracted by it, and the next repelling it. He 
tears asunder the bonds that fetter him too closely, 
and puts on new ones. He can never thoroughly 
emancipate himself, and yet it ought to be his con- 
stant endeavour to free himself from the influences of 
what is merelv sensuous. Even in his last hour he 



^8 MEN'S ESriMArE OF LIFE. 

will have to say with St. Paul : '' Not that I count 
myself as having apprehended, or that I be already 
perfect ! '' 

But one thing let us all say : Forgetting those 
things which are behind, I reach forth unto those 
thines which are before. I honour the wants and 
requirements of external life ; but my higher life, 
walking in the ways of the Lord, virtuous willing and 
doing, rises above all that is perishable. I will govern 
my inclinations and my aversions, and will not allow 
myself to be governed by them. I will do what is 
right, what is noble, what is useful to others, however 
much my other inclinations may be opposed to this. 
Not human approval merely, not the praise of my 
fellow-citizens, not the blame of the great multitude, 
not ambition, nor either the hope of gain in other 
ways shall determine me to do that which, according 
to my innermost convictions, is right, and godhke, 
and worthy of a disciple of Jesus. The world can 
neither reward nor punish my spirit. It finds its 
reward in likeness to God, and its most fearful punish- 
ments in deviation from His ways. Therefore I shall 
not allow the enjoyments of this world either to lure 
me to what is evil or to what is good ; for they are 
meant to serve the body, not the spirit. But forget- 
ting those things which are behind, and reaching forth 
unto those things which are before, I press toward the 
mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ 
Jesus. 

This world, though it possess much that is pleasant 
to me, and much that I might desire, is not the final 
goal of my existence. God has called me to a 
heavenly inheritance, to a spiritual life, to a state of 



MEN'S ESriMArE OF LIFE. ^n 

perfection, of the extent and glory of which I cannot 
now in my human frame form any conception, though 
a vague presentiment thereof floats in my spirit. This 
eternal existence, this likeness to God, this unclouded 
comprehension of God, of myself, and of the universe, 
this state of holiness in the infinite Holiness, — this is 
the mark towards which I press, this is the prize of 
the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. But this 
my goal, and this my calling through God I have 
learnt to know in Christ and through Christ. For it is 
He that shed light through the deep darkness of life ; 
and therefore He is truly called the Light and the 
Life. It is He who, by His revealed Word, has led 
me up, from endless confusion, from the depths of 
error, to God, to the Father of the universe, and to 
endless bliss. I shall be v/ith God, shall find Him in 
the abodes of bliss, if I will but follow Jesus ; for 
He, that is to say. His virtues, are the way to true 
life. And the virtue of Jesus is to do the will of the 
Father. And the will of the Heavenly Father is that 
we should love Him above all things, and that we 
should strive to make every one of our fellow-beings 
with whom we are brought into any kind of relation, 
as happy as we would endeavour to make ourselves. 

Every true disciple of the Divine Master, therefore, 
attaches but little value to the present existence. He 
does not waste hours on the adornment of his perish- 
able body, the destiny of which is to return to dust; 
and though pleased to have gained the esteem of good 
men, he does not allow himself to be made to waver 
in his duties by the approval or the disapproval of his 
fellows. What he wills and does, he does not because 
of the judgment of men, but from love of Jesus — 



5q MEN'S ESriMATE OF LIFE. 

that is to say, from love of holiness. He rejoices in 
friendship^ in the tender sentiments of love given and 
received, but he remains, nevertheless, master of his 
feelings. Love is immortal, and spiritual beings never 
lose each other in the infinite universe, but man is 
mortal. Therefore the true disciple of the Lord, the 
Christian sage, does not build the entire happiness of 
his existence on the frail life of a human being. Wife, 
love thy husband ; youth, love the maiden thy heart 
has chosen ; father, mother, love thy child ! But 
never forget that death must one day necessarily sepa- 
rate you y and hov7, then, will it be with your peace of 
mind, your happiness ? Does the thought make you 
shudder, and do you fear that with the death of the 
beloved one all peace and all happiness will be lost to 
you ? If so, then however pious and good you may 
be, you cling too strongly to the world, you attach an 
undue value to it, you love passionately, immoderately, 
and therefore you are not free, not happy, and will not be 
so, until on this point also you have learnt to be strong 
— until on this point also you are able to raise your- 
selves, through hope in eternal existence, so far above 
all that belongs to this earth only, that you can lose 
that which you love best without losing that inward 
happiness and that heavenly peace which the con- 
sciousness of virtue gives. The less value this earthly 
Hfe has in your eyes, the greater is your own worth. 
Then only will you be able to say with the pious but 
heroic apostle, '^ Therefore we are always confident, 
knowing that whilst we are at home in the body, we 
are absent from the Lord. We are confident, I say, 
and willing rather to be absent from the body and to 
be present with the Lord. Wherefore we labour. 



MEN'S ESTIMATE OF LIFE. gj 

that, whether present or absent, we may be accepted 
of Him." (2 Cor. v. 6, 8, 9.) 

Whither has this meditation led me ? Here I stand, 
placed beyond myself, as it were, and looking at my- 
self, at the world, and looking, O my God, up to 
Thee ! And while gazing at all those things in the 
world which most especially attract me — at all those 
objects which, when I am near unto them, make my 
heart beat more joyfully, and which, were I to lose 
them, would precipitate me into inexpressible grief — I 
take the measure of my own worth. As yet, alas ! I 
am far from having reached perfection, for I still love 
and fear too much from a life which ought not to call 
forth passionate attachment or passionate fear. As 
yet I cling too strongly to much that is neither good 
for my inward peace, for my inward happiness, or even 
for my virtue. Not that I ought to renounce all the 
sweet and noble pleasures that Thy love offers me 
here on earth, but that the perishable should not 
conquer that which is eternal in me, is Thy com- 
mandment ', to fulfil this ought to be my object ! 

Lord, teach me to remember how short are my 
days on earth, how uncertain all the goods of this 
life, so that, without straying from Thee, I may enjoy 
them with wise moderation, and submit to their loss 
with noble resignation. This is the true renunciation 
of the world which Thy Son, Jesus, the Messiah, re- 
commends to us. 

Lord, teach me to remember that this abiding upon 
earth is but a point in my eternal existence, that my 
true life will b)e in heaven. That which awaits m^e 
beyond the grave is unknown to me, and were it 
known to me, I should be unable to comprehend it. 



52 MEN'S ESTIMATE OF LIFE. 

Can the child who still clings to its toys as the only- 
source of enjoyment, conceive the nobler pleasures of 
riper years ? Thus we, also, here below walk in faith 
and not by sight. 

Lord, teach me to remember my own value, that 
the value of this life may be abased in my eyes. Give 
me strength, let Thy Holy Spirit be ever with me ; 
thus only shall I free myself from the luring charms 
of the perishable, and from the thraldom of passion. 
Thou, O Lord, art the Spirit ; and where the Spirit 
of the Lord is, there is freedom. Amen. 



GOD'S RULE. 

In the soul's kingdom God alone bears sway. 

Dare men — dare dust: — deny or disobey ? 

Who rules above, rules also here beiov/ — 

To Him rrian's wisdom is an idle show. 

A yoke of iron to the scorner's neck, 

Thy word shall crush him, and Thy rod shall break j 

Then hastes he, ere Thy judgment wake, to win 

Thy pardon, Lord, and to confess his sin. 

But should God send His blessing on the land, 
And guard the people with His sheltering hand, 
Who can withstand His will ? His servants find 
Their foes dispersed, like chaff before the wind — 
Therefore, ye nations, be His powers adored ! 
Ye kingdoms, bow in worsl^ip to the Lord ! 
Let Him bear rule — for He is God alone. 
And what He doeth, that must be well done. 

(Psalm xlvi. lo.) 

Be still, and know that I am God ! Thus speaks the 
voice of the Lord to us from out of the great events 
of the world. That which princes and peoples have 
for years unanimously desired, and for which they 
have striven, is seldom attained. Something different 
from what we expect is ever occurring. Few persons 
have understood this. They believe that to be the 
doing of man, which is the ruling of God. In like 
manner many changes have taken place which mortals 
in their blind folly would Mn have prevented. They 
believed that there was no salvation, no happiness for 
them except in the old state of things. They strove 
to bring back the past by violence, and thus rendered 



64 GOD'S RULE, 

themselves miserable, and made the present ever more 
new. That which the hand of God has once struck 
down is never to rise again. Princes and peoples 
have struggled, but the past has not come back, while 
the new structure, contrary to the wishes of all, has 
become ever more perfect and more firmly established. 
In vain are the ravings and the fury of man ; what is 
to be, comes to pass, nothing more and nothing less. 
Everything has its limit, which no man can overstep. 
The mightiest are checked in their career by an in- 
visible hand. 

Be still and know that I am God ! Bow to the 
will of the Lord ! Ye seek with all your art and 
power to conjure the past back from the grave into 
which it has sunk. True wisdom would recommend 
you to accept and to utilize the new state of things so 
as to make it productive of more strength,, more 
peace, more well-being, and more joy than could ever 
have grown out of the old state. Those are unwise 
who disdain the good which the present affords, be- 
cause of the better things which the future may have 
in store ; but more unwise still are they who disdain 
the present because they desire that yesterday should 
become to-morrow. When did the stream of time 
stand still, or when did the course of the world turn 
back ? Everything speeds forward, nothing remains 
ever the same. The good see good in everything ; 
the wise know how to select the best from all things. 

Recognize the ruling hand of God ! He has struck 
down the exalted, and raised up the humble. Who 
is like unto Him in might ? Who could stay His 
power to do as He listeth ? Of what avail were 
the mightiest fleets that ever rode the waves ? He 



GOD'S RULE, 



65 



-sent a blast of wind, which raised the billows, and the 
ships were dispersed, and what no mortal had looked 
forward to took place ; and what human intellect had 
cunningly pre-calculated came to nought. Of what 
avail were the mightiest hosts of armed men ? He 
breathed upon them, and it was the breath of death. 
Their corpses and their arms lay strewn upon the 
battle-field , and what they were to have accom- 
plished remained undone ; the weak grew strong, 
and the mighty powerless. God ,willed it so. Of 
what avail were the cunning plans of the leaders, the 
valour of the commanders ? A trifle upset the gigan- 
tic projects ; a grain of dust stopped the great clock- 
work y the valiant hero stepped unknowingly into the 
path of the deadly ball speeding towards him, and he 
who threatened the lives of thousands, lay lifeless 
himself in the dust. No one ^s mighty before the Lord. 
Wise men have been left to sigh in dungeons, yet 
their words have inspired millions of other men, and 
have changed the destinies of entire continents. No 
one knows for what God has destined him. Each 
one of us is an instrument in the hand of Providence. 
Thine, O man, is the good-will evinced in thine acts, 
but the results depend on God. Thou art answerable 
for the will, the consequences belong to the govern- 
ment of the world. Be still, saith the Lord, and 
know that I am God ! 

Know Him, the only One, the Ruler of all, v/ho 
dwells above us in majestic mystery ; who regulates 
the course of the suns and the moons, and the gentle 
flights of the butterflies ; who judges the deeds of 
kings and beggars by the same standard \ who de- 
termines the weal and woe of entire divisions of the 

F 



66 GOD'S RULE. 

globe, and of the humblest and most obscure family 
with equal wisdom ; without whose will nothing hap- 
pens. He has saved innocence when condemned, 
and drawn the secret criminal into the light of day, 
and laid bare his hidden sufferings, so that all have 
shuddered back from them. When an honest man 
has become the victim of the slander of envious 
minds y when he has fallen a prey to the most infa- 
mous suspicions, and all means of justifying himself in 
the eyes of the world fail, and every appearance is 
against him, and a circumstance that had until then 
escaped all observation suddenly testifies in favour of 
the slandered man, and his righteousness is finally 
as honourably vindicated as the malignity of his con- 
temptible persecutors is thoroughly unveiled, — this 
circumstance (v^^hich you call accident) is a sign of 
the ruling hand of God. 

Often one hour, one minute, has sufficed to bring 
to light the sins which have been committed in secret 
by evildoers, who have long succeeded in hiding in 
darkness their nefarious acts, be it of cruel usury, of 
dishonest acquisition of inheritance, of oppression of 
widov/s, of cunning over-reaching of the weak and 
good-natured, of fraudulent use of the property of 
others ; or be it of secret intrigues against the good 
name of one whom in public they pretended to honour, 
or of calumnious betrayal of one whom they praised 
to his face. The ray of light v/hich on such occasions 
has fallen through an unobserved chink into the 
chambers of iniquity, and has revealed the deeds of 
darkness in all their hideousness — this ray shows us 
the ruling hand of God ! For such is the holy law 
of the entire universe : that which is condemnable 



GOD'S RULE, 5y 

can never escape its condemnation. When the dis- 
gusting diseases brought on by secret licentiousness 
at last betray to the whole world the conduct of the 
dishonourable hypocrite ; when the enervated vale- 
tudinarian reaps in early death the fruits of his incon- 
tinence ; when a word spoken without reflection, or 
a drop of blood which has remained uneffaced, or the 
prattle of a child, or a handful of fresh earth, or a 
faithful anim.al, or a change of colour in the cheek, 
has, after the lapse perhaps of years, delivered into the 
hands of justice the author of a murder, a secret 
poisoner, a revengeful cut-throat, oh, say not that it 
was accident, for it was God's ruling hand ! To 
every secret sinner comies the day of judgm.ent ; and 
were he to heap mxountains on the evidences of his 
misdeeds, though only dark night, or silent walls, or 
solitary forests were the witnesses of his crime — the 
mountains will be dispersed like dust before the wind, 
and discover what was hidden beneath them ; the 
stones of the wall will speak and reveal his guilt; the 
leaves of the forest will become rustling v/itnesses, 
and the avenging flash of lightning will descend from 
the cloudless sky. Be still, saith the Lord, and know 
that I am God ! 

Recognize the ruling hand of God. He alone is 
the Lord, who raiseth up the broken-spirited, who 
healeth the wounded, who strengtheneth the v/eak, 
who comforteth the repining, who protecteth the 
helpless. Neither in heaven nor on earth is there any 
such thing as the rule of accident ; there is an all- 
seeing, wise, loving Power, Vv^liich guideth all things 
to good, not along the paths of chance, but according 
to the eternal law of goodness. Though men may, 

F 2 



58 GOD'S RULE, 

in the strength of their uncurbed passion, rage hos- 
tilely against each other ; though might and cunning 
may for a time cause error to prevail instead of truth ; 
though the senseless wishes of an impure and selfish 
multitude may run counter to each other : wherefore 
should ye tremble, O ye of Httle faith ? God rules. 

God rules ! Therefore that which is hidden will at 
last come to light, crime will be unmasked, and all evil 
will meet with its deserts. Therefore only that which 
is good in itself, and just and true, will eventually con- 
quer and prevail. Has not the experience of the world 
repeatedly shown how entire nations, swayed by fashion 
and established custom, have endeavoured to stamp 
error with the impress of truth, and that yet their 
efforts have proved vain ? Have not tyrants on their 
thrones endeavoured, with proud arbitrariness, to make 
their folly accepted as wisdom ? have they not banished 
truth as treason, and shamefully trodden under foot 
every right of humanity ? Poor impotent sinners ! 
Their dust has been scattered to the winds, their race 
has been extinguished, only their names survive, as 
monuments of their iniquity. Have not obstinate and 
selfish rulers sought to force back their people into 
ignorance and barbarism, that they might the easier be 
held in the fetters of slavery ? But the rulers of the 
world and their audacious dreams have been destroyed 
by a breath from the lips of some God-inspired Sage, 
and mankind has come forth into the light, and the 
powers of darkness have fallen. Their anathemas, 
their funeral piles, their dungeons, have been in vain. 
Therefore, Be still, saith the Lord, and know that I 
am God ! 

Recognize the rule of God in all thy unfulfilled 



GOD'S RULE, 5q 

wishes ; recognize it in all thy hopes fulfilled. In 
regard to both, love has been active for good. For 
this is the end of creation. Even when thy heart 
bleeds most painfully, even w^hen the most sacred 
bonds are severed — at the death-bed of husband or 
v^ife, parent or child, sister or brother, when it seems 
to thee as if such death were impossible, as if God 
could not will it — when weeping, sobbing in thy soli- 
tary chamber, thou stretchest up thy arms to heaven, 
and askest, " Wherefore, ah, wherefore must this 
be ? " — even when the loved one has been taken away 
at last, and thy every joy in life seems gone — even 
then it is God^s hand that ruleth for the good of thy 
loved one ; and — however painfully thy tender and 
affectionate heart may bleed — for thy good also ! 

The inner worth and the sincere religiositv of men, 
is more easily ascertained by^the manner in which they 
contemplate the future, than in the view they take of 
the present or the past. All men are at length recon- 
ciled to the past, and habit enables them to bear with 
the present ; but it is not so easy to look forward with 
indifference or calmness to that which may come. 
The more a man fears from the future, the less is the 
worth of his heart, the less the sincerity and depth of 
his religiosity. The more cheerfully and trustfully he 
looks forward to the days that are coming, the purer 
is his mind, the truer his religion. 

For weak, sensuous persons, strongly attached to 
what is earthly — persons to whom what they eat 
and what they drink, their household furniture, their 
money, their worldly position and the consideration in 
which they are held by others, are the most important 
matters, must, of course, be more fearful of the 



yO GOD'S RULE, 

future than others, because they have set their hearts 
on things that must perish. They must tremble in 
spite of all their trust in God ; for they know before- 
hand that God will not leave them for ever the joys of 
the senses. Their own consciences tell them that 
they cling more to what belongs to the dust than to 
what is divine and eternal : that they value mere 
worldly appearances more than the virtue that raises 
us above the world. 

The truly God-fearing and God-trusting Christian, 
on the contrary, looks cheerfully towards the future. 
It terrifies him not because it may bring punishment 
for hidden sins ; for he is guiltless though not fault- 
less. Whatever wrong he may have done he at once 
endeavours to make amends for. He has done all 
that man can do, and that a follower of Jesus is bound 
to do. He looks cheerfully into the future. What- 
ever God may have ordained, whether it be war or 
peace, riches or poverty, joyful intercourse with be- 
loved objects, or the death of the latter — storm or 
sunshine— he knows that God rules. And when he 
sees the dark thunder cloud rolling towards him, it is 
God's voice that says to him : Be still, and know that 
I am God. 

Why then should I fear, O Lord, if it be Thee, my 
God, my Father, who sendeth forth the thunder cloud 
of fate ? Without Thy will how can it harm me ? 
And can it be Thy will to render me miserable — me 
Thy child, whom Thou hast created and destined for 
eternal bliss ? Thy helpless child, who holds every- 
thing he possesses from Thee, O Almighty God ? 
Nay, I feel no uneasiness. I fear not my own death 
— for what is death but the dissevering of the bonds 



GOD'S RULE. 71 

of earth, freedom to the immortal soul, union with 
Thee — what then should I fear ? Give or take ; 
exalt me or abase me ; let me be the joy of my friends 
or fall the victim of mine enemies — I accept with 
thankfulness v/hatever fate may befall me. For Thou 
art my Father ^ Thy love is my highest good 3 virtue 
my palladium ; all else belongs to the dust and must 
sink into the grave. 

I am still — still and full of trust — trustful and 
joyful, for I know that Thou art God — my God — for 
ever ! Amen 



THE POWER OF THE CONSCIENCE. 

Holy God ! unless a measure 

Of Thy Spirit fill my heart, 
Nought of earth can give me pleasure, 

Or a lasting joy impart. 

Gold and goods must turn to ashes, 

Even while we bid them stayj 
And the bloom of beauty passes, 

Hastening onward to decay. 

But a conscience pure and holy, 

That no thought of sin can pale. 
Sweetens life, however lowly, 

Makes e'en death's last terrors fail, 

(2 CoR. i. 12.) 

In every human breast a mysterious and holy voice 
speaks at times, and its utterances are understood by 
all, of v^hatever religion they may be ; even by the 
heathen, who accepts not the light of the Gospel. 
" Man," saith this voice, " be just," and no flattery, 
no displeasure, no reasoning can silence it. Ever and 
ever it repeats, '^ Man, be just ! " 

In vain the sceptic, v^ho mocks at religion, would 
make himself believe in his shameless frivolity, that 
everything is the effect of chance, that piety and faith 
are but popular superstitions, that Christianity is but a 
political bridle by which to hold the barbarous masses 
in check ; in vain he refuses to believe in virtue, or 
believes it to be mere hypocrisy or irrational enthu- 
siasm ; in vain he endeavours to persuade himself that 



THE POWER OF THE CONSCIENCE. yo 

the promptings of prudence, cunning, and self-interest, 
are the highest law ; in vain would he deny the exist- 
ence of a God in the infinite creation, of a righteous 
Judge above the stars, — the inward voice cries, '^ Man, 
thou speakest false. '^ But the earth trembles, and 
terrhples and palaces sink into ruins ; friends by his 
side descend into the grave and become dust and 
ashes ; amid a fearful conflict of the elements, the 
thunder rolls through the heavens, and the lightning 
flashes, and flames consume his dwelling. The scoffer 
scoffs no more. " There is a God," cries the voice 
within, and in faltering accents he repeats, " There is 
a God ! " 

In vain the profligate sneers at the holy voice 
within his own bosom, and calls it the echo of a 
nursery tale, a consequence of his education. He 
imagines himself to be more enlightened than the 
noblest spirits that have lived. He rises above what 
he thinks mere prejudice, practises his sins in secret, 
and looks scornfully around, asking : " Where is the 
Judge who is to judge me ? " The inward voice cries : 
"Hide thy sins beneath a world, still, sooner or later^ 
they will come forth into the sunlight." In vain he 
rushes into the turmoil of the world ; he carries the 
firebrand in his heart — a firebrand from hell, which 
secretly consumes him. In vain he strives to free him 
self from the laws that govern the sacred order of the 
universe, and according to which only that which is 
good can prosper, and evil can only generate destruc- 
tion ; he is carried along by an unknown power, 
which links him and his deeds to this eternal orga- 
nization. Destruction springs even from his most 
secret sins ; he cannot prevent it. He is ever flying 



y . rHE POTVER OF THE CONSCIENCE. 

trom himself; his whole being is annihilated by un- 
ceasing gnawing anxiety, the inward voice is ever 
crying : " God is Omnipresent ! " In vain thou 
persecutest the truth with slanderous tongue, and 
strivest to wrest from merit its well-deserved crown. 
What thy hps traduce, thy heart is forced to honour 
even against thy will, and thou endest by heaping 
upon thyself the contempt of the world. In vain, 
heartless tyrant, dost thou hunt down the innocent, 
in order to justify thine own crimes ; in vain dost 
thou persecute them by means of false oaths and 
false witnesses, by means of suborned judges, dark 
dungeons, and cruel tortures ; thou canst not con- 
quer them. They look in thy face with a fearless 
smile ; they are serene in the midst of the tears 
forced from them by their sufferings, whilst thou 
tremblest in the midst of thy triumphs ; they repose 
full of joy in their dungeon, whilst thou sittest full 
of dread at the luxurious banquet. Thou mayst drag 
them to the scaffold, but their death will be their 
triumph and thy condemnation. 

Such is the power of conscience, which, like an 
invisible angel, is ever present in the assembly of 
mortals, supporting truth, and justice, and innocence, 
though they be deserted by all men ; laying hold 
of the criminal, though he fly into the most hidden 
caverns ; and v/restling with the sinner, though he be 
seated on a throne, or surrounded by armed hosts. 

The Divine law, that tells of what is good, and 
true, and right, is written in the human heart. There- 
fore, even in " the heathens, the conscience bears 
witness, their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or 
excusing one another." 



rilE POJVER OF THE CONSCIENCE. y^ 

The conscience is a teacher. It guides even the 
most ignorant in the path of right. Let no one en- 
deavour to excuse himself to the world, and still less 
to himself or to God, the Omniscient, with the pre- 
tence that he knew not how to distinguish between 
right and wrong. 

Conscience teaches it, and conscience is incorrup- 
tible and just ! If thou follow this holy voice within 
that leads to good, thou wilt never willingly go astray, 
thou wilt never knowingly do eyil, and thou wilt 
ever enjoy internal self-contentment. Listen to the 
voice of this monitor, however loudly and temptingly 
thy senses may clamour against it. Listen to its voice, 
particularly in doubtful cases, when contending desires, 
threaten to mislead thee ; when what thou considerest 
thy interests cannot perhaps be maintained without 
injustice to others ; when thou mayest perhaps have it 
in thy power to do much good, if thy self-interest and 
self-love will but consent to a sacrifice. Perhaps thou 
mayst be plotting vengeance against one whom thou 
hast reason to dislike ; thy conscience says : " Be 
nobler than he, and put him to shame by thy mag- 
nanimity ! " Perhaps lascivious thoughts disturb thy 
mind, and that carnal lust tempts thee to commit a 
base act, to vicious indulgence ; thy conscience cries : 
'' Villain, wouldst thou infuse the poison of vice into 
the bosom of innocence ? Wouldst thou, like Satan, 
destroy a paradise ? " Perhaps thou covetest another 
man's property, or perhaps some great advantage, 
which might be secured by a slight deception; thy 
conscience cries : '^ Hold ! seek not an advantage 
that would make thee despicable in thine own eyes ! '' 

For what art thou profited, if thou shalt gain the 



76 



THE POWER OF THE CONSCIENCE. 



whole world and lose thine own soul ? Perhaps thy 
vanity tempts thee to amuse thyself and others by 
exercising thy wit in making another person appear 
ridiculous ; thy conscience cries : " Bold and licen- 
tious tongue, how soon wouldst thou not become 
silent, were he whom thou art mocking to draw 
near." 

The conscience is an earnest and just teacher; and 
only in following its hints and warnings canst thou 
find true happiness. Do not persuade thyself that it 
is otherwise ; seek not by subtle reasoning to find the 
means of satisfying thy forbidden wishes and vicious 
tendencies, without violating thy sense of right and of 
decency. Thy reasonings are false. It is an evil 
deed that thou art tempted to commit, and behind it 
lurks secret remorse. The conscience admits of no 
compromise. Thou thinkest that thou canst bargain 
with it ; but, weak man, thou art only bargaining with 
thine own shame. 

The conscience is a teacher endowed with Divine 
authority. It says : "Do this, and avoid that,yd?r it 
is right^ and because it is right^ and not because it may 
be to thy advantage, or it may bring down shame upon 
thee. Thou must do what is right and good because 
it is so, and without reference to anything else. 
Thou must do it even should it not be conducive to 
thy worldly interests. Thou must do it even should 
it be injurious to these." Thus speaks thy conscience^ 
O man, and thus speaks Jesus Christ. For if thou 
doest that only which is of use to thee, then thou hast 
thy reward. (Matt. vi. i, 2.) Thou art prudent 
and calculating, but not virtuous. 

The conscience also warns ! All men have failed, 



J 



THE POWER OF THE CONSCIENCE, 



77 



and whosoever has failed has heard the warning voice 
of the inward judge. 

Even as children, when engaged in play, or in 
trifling household occupations, we feel a certain mis- 
giving when we allow ourselves to be led by our own 
evil propensities, or by tempting examples, to the 
commission of some wrong. 

How violently does not every heart beat before the 
intended performance of an evil deed. The thief 
feeJs it before he stretches out his- hand towards pro- 
perty that is not his ; the voluptuary feels it before he 
stammers forth the tempting words ; the perjurer feels 
it before he opens his lips to utter the false oath ; the 
traitor feels it when, driven by covetousness or ven- 
geance, he goes forth to betray his friend, his country, 
or those in authority over him. With fearful earnest- 
ness the conscience warns ^hem of their sin, and the 
nearer the time for its consummation draws, the more 
earnestly the admonishing voice is raised. 

The struggle of a man with himself, before he 
makes the first step towards an evil deed, the conflict 
with his expostulating conscience, is, as it were, a 
conflict with his good angel, who is attempting to 
hold him back, and to save him from falling. Alas ! 
in vain are the touching appeals of the angel. The 
deed is done. The angel draws back in sorrow and 
silence. The sinner falls from bad to v/orse, and 
ever more sorrowfully, ever fainter sounds the voice 
of the heavenly m.essenger, who is withdrawing from 
him. 

Behold yon uncorrupted youth : he is about to 
practise his first deception. He endeavours to speak, 
but his tongue refuses to obey. He walks, and his 



y8 THE FOTFER OF THE CONSCIENCE. 

Steps are uneven and faltering. His inward confusion 
appears in every movement. He endeavours to lift 
up to you his eyes, which used ever to gaze fearlessly 
into yours ; but he can no longer encounter the look 
of the righteous ; he dreads lest you may discover 
the uneasiness of his conscience. As yet he is only 
wavering, this former favourite of all good people ; he 
still blushes v^ith shame at his unworthy self. Were 
he to look into the glass he would loathe the sight of 
himself. Young men who have hitherto held fast 
the jewel of a pure heart, and who in its strength 
have walked freely and proudly through the world, 
Vv^hiie old men in their corruption have envied you — 
and you, tender-hearted daughters of excellent parents, 
oh, listen to the warning voice of your good angel, so 
that it may never abandon you ! Bear the sweet in- 
nocence of your youth unspotted through the world 
in spite of its -vices and immoralities. Bear it Mn- 
sulHed in your bosoms even in mature manhood, 
when you shall be fathers of famihes, or wives and 
mothers ; oh, you will have your reward, for you will 
be bringing the heaven of your childhood over into 
the days of your old age. 

Young man, behold the enervated profligate, who 
has wasted the blessing of health, and is staggering 
towards an early grave ; behold the dishonourable 
villain, who knows not what happiness is, though 
surrounded by the riches which he has acquired by 
unfair means, because to. such ever clings a curse ; 
behold the murderer, who in his passion slew his 
brother, now tottering, pale and terrified, to meet his 
judge. 

O daughter, behold the fallen maiden, whose hfe, 



rHE POJFER OF THE CONSCIENCE, 



79 



which has become a dishonour to her family, is con- 
sumed by secret sorrow because she listened too 
thoughtlessly to the seducer; behold yon mother, 
despised by her own children, because of her avarice, 
her disorder, and her coarseness, — all these unhappy 
beings once felt the warnings of conscience as you 
feel them, yet dared to set them at nought. 

The conscience punishes. The good angel flees 
when the wrong has been committed ; but the evil 
angel awakens, and with him suffering. Instead of 
the wonted cheerfulness, fear now takes possession of 
the heart. Never yet did thistles bring forth good 
fruit, and never yet has an evil action led to good. 
Thou mayst perhaps succeed in concealing thy mis- 
deed for years, but its consequences reach through 
eternity, and will one day betray thee. An accident, 
an event which thou hast never anticipated, will, at a 
time when least of all thou wouldst have expected it, 
bring thy shame to light. Thou canst never more 
feel secure. .The old and terrific proverb is but too 
true : " Ne'er was thread so finely spun, that it doth 
not at last mxcet the eye of the sun." And in your 
case also it v/ill be verified. 

Could we look into the hearts of men, we should 
see many an individual, v/hen alone, tortured by his 
bad conscience, feeling as if he were abandoned by 
God and man, and deeply despising himself; v/e 
should see how every recollection of an upright 
character reminds him of his own degradation; hov/ 
the miost harmless word spoken by another may pierce 
his heart like a dagger ; how the apparently most 
insignificant circumstance will startle him. out of 
his hardly-won feeling of security. Verily, the pain 



2o THE POWER OF THE CONSCIENCE. 

caused by the serpent tooth of remorse far out- 
weighs any gratification that may have been felt in the 
hour of sin. 

The tortures of an evil conscience embitter every 
pleasure. And even should the evil-doer succeed in 
stifling its voice during the distractions of the day, at 
night the consciousness of his misdeeds stands like a 
ghost by his bedside. He longs for sleep, but the 
remembrance haunts his dreams. Manifold and 
great are the sufferings to which man is subject, but 
the most terrible of all is remorse. It hates the light 
of day, which may reveal its cause, and shudders at 
the darkness in which treachery may be lurking. It 
shuns solitude, where the memory of the misdeed 
speaks the loudest, and flies from society that it may 
not betray its own secret. 

The heart conscious of guilt is ever anticipating 
with trembling the moment when its secret will cease 
to be one. But the pain of this constant fear and of 
its never-ceasing self-reproaches at length reaches such 
a point, that the sinner, in order to escape from these 
torments of hell, comes forward and confesses his 
guilt. How many a murderer has been thus tortured 
until he has gone before a magistrate and confessed 
his crime ! Hov/ many a deceiver has been stretched 
on the bed of death, seemingly unable to die, until he 
had made amends to the person he had deceived, or to 
his children ! 

Such is the mighty power of the conscience ! It 
may for a time be lulled to sleep, but it can never be 
entirely destroyed ; and the later it awakens, the more 
dreadful it is. The sinner becomes a prey to remorse, 
he reaps the fruit of his shame, even though it be 



THE FOTVER OF THE CONSCIENCE, g i 

not before he finds himself on the very brink of 
the grave, into which, in his hopeless despair, he fears 
to descend. 

The conscience rewards ! And its rewards are 
as divine, as the vengeance of betrayed virtue is 
terrible. 

He who has a clean conscience, sees friends in all 
whom he meets. He avoids no one ; he has no 
reason to shun any one. He pities the vicious and 
the , criminal ; he loves the righteous, and to all he 
is open and candid. His mind is ever cheerful. Each 
pleasure that the passing hour may give, he enjoys in 
full draughts, and when misfortune overtakes him, he 
bears it with manly courage, strengthened by the 
feeling that he is worthy of a better fate, and that his 
sufferings are not owing to his own fault, and that 
God is with him. 

Behold persecuted innocence : supported by the 
pride of a pure conscience, it leaves the palace which 
is the abode of injustice, and chooses in preference the 
beggar's stafF; with divine calm, like that of Jesus in 
Gethsemane, it addresses its persecutors in His words 
and says: "I am He that ye seek!" No earthly 
shame can diminish its dignity, no sufferings can de- 
prive it of its heavenly peace. To it the dark prison 
is converted into a place of bliss, when it mounts the 
scaffold it celebrates the greatest triumph ; and hu- 
manity weeps above its tomb. 

A man who can act with a cheerful and easy con- 
science, is trusted by high and low. He is quite 
independent, and may stand forth like a princ«, though 
clad in the garb of poverty. Whoever knows him 
honours him ; and he stands without fear before the 

G 



82 ^-"^^ POWER OF THE CONSCIENCE. 

throne as before the judgment-seat, and looks death 
steadfastly in the face. 

A good conscience is a heaven in the heart, it gives 
power over the evil-minded, is a protector in need, a 
sheet-anchor in the storms of life, and smoothes the 
pillow of death. 

Holy, holy God ! Oh, may this indescribable peace 
of a good conscience be mine evermore ! May I 
never have cause to blush for my actions before Thee, 
or before my fellow-men. May I never know the 
terrors of a guilty conscience, never feel the serpent 
tooth of remorse gnawing at my heart ! May I walk 
through life innocent, and pure, and with child-like 
simplicity ! 

1 am v/eak, it is true, and I am conscious of my 
weakness. Perhaps I may in my thoughtlessness 
allov/ myself to be in some measure misled ; perhaps 
I may, in the strength of passion, forget for a moment 
Thy holy v/ill ! If so, then, oh then, my conscience, 
be thou the guardian of my virtue, my innocence, and 
my peace ! — May the divine sentimicnts of the true 
and the noble ever guide me, so that I may not 
become unworthy of myself, so that I may not fall 
away from God, or from Thee, O Jesus, m.y Hea- 
venly Teacher, through whose Spirit I will sanctify 
myself. 

Not all the sweetness of a forbidden deed or wish 
can compensate for the pangs of never-ceasing fear, 
and inevitable self-contempt 5 the evanescent pleasure 
of a m.oment, enjoyed with anxious heart, can afford 
no compensation for long hours of remorse. 

No, no, my God and Heavenly Father ! Not in 
vain hast Thou implanted in my bosom this judge of 



THE POWER OF rHE CONSCIENCE. go 

my thoughts, my words and my deeds. The voice of 
conscience is Thy voice : how then can I refuse to 
listen to it ? Nay, however much it may cost me to 
curb my evil passions, to restrain my impure desires — 
in Thy hearing, O my God, I make a solemn promise 
that I will remain pure and free from reproach : I will 
rather endure the scofFs of the world, poverty, hunger, 
misery, nay even death itself, than bear the burden of 
one evil deed, which dishonours me in mine own eyes. 
What is man's scorn to me, if I can look up fearlessly 
to Thee ? If I have but Thy approval, the bliss of 
heaven is already mine. 

Oh, may these sentiments and resolutions, which 
now already spread such sweet joy through my heart, 
never vanish from my memory ! How joyfully may I 
then receive the happiness of life from Thy hand; 
how cheerfully shall I then taeet all that may befall 
me ; how hopefully shall I close my eyes in death 
when called. 



G 2 



PEACE IN JESUS. 

Thy wisdom, Jesus, Thine alone, 

Can wake the blind to see ; 
Creation's call by it made known. 

Tuned nature's praise to Thee j 
And by its holy teaching led, 
On life's dark dream the day was shed, 

And the Creator shown. 

Then dwell with us, and let Thy light 

Glow on in peace divine. 
That by its ray, through error's night, 

Unveiled, thy truth may shine. 
From forth Thy temple let it stream. 
To house, or lowly cot, the gleam, 

Bring joy, for it is Thine. 

(John xvi. 33.) 

" These things I have spoken unto you, that in Me ye might have 
peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation j but be of good cheer 5 I 
have overcome the world ! " 

Thus spake Jesus to His disciples. How am I to 
understand the words of the Holy Teacher of man- 
kind r 

He says, that He has spoken and taught that in 
Him we may have peace. Peace in Himy th?it is to 
say, in His spirit, not in His body— in His magnani- 
mous and holy principles, in His relations to the 
Deity and to the v/orld, which ought to become our 
principles and our relations also. We are to have 
peace in Him — but with whom are we to be at peace ? 
For where peace is to be established, hostility mxust 



PEACE IN JESUS. 85 

have existed. We are to be at peace with God, the 
Father, the Holy of Holies ; with our eternal desti- 
nation ; with ourselves. 

Peace in Jesus is the glorification on earth of the 
human spirit by its own endeavours, and through the 
power of faith, or of the religion of Jesus. And our 
spirit is glorified when it purifies itself from the dross 
of earthly evil which clings to it, as it were, and ob- 
scures the Divine image in which it is created. This 
glorification is effected by the victorious coming forth 
of the spirit out of the slough of common cares, 
common wishes, common desires, and of all those 
low appetites, which are at war with its divinity. 
The spirit, being from God, knows full well w^hat it 
is that dims its purity, and destroys its dignity. And 
even when it allows itself to be led in slavish chains 
by the animal desires of the body, by the angry pas- 
sions, the ambition and the envy of the heart, it feels 
ashamed of its bondage. Even in the lowest crimi- 
nals, in robbers and murderers^ there is, as it were, a 
yearning of the spirit after purity, freedom, and like- 
ness to God. However deeply it may be sunk in 
mere animal life, and however completely it may have 
forgotten all else, its own high origin it never forgets, 
and therefore neither does it forget what it ought to 
be, and what it might be. 

The deep flush of shame that colours the cheek of 
one who is conscious of his own evil-doings, and who 
fears detection — what is this but the noble indignation 
of the spirit at its own degradation ? The casting down 
of the eyes of those who know that they are guilty 
— what is it but the sign of the self-contempt and 
self-accusation of the spirit, which cannot entirely 



85 PEACE IN JESUS. 

conquer its yearning after likeness with God ? The 
anxiety felt by the unjust, the fear that tortures the 
criminal, the endeavours of the sinner to conceal his 
shame, are so many indications of the silent indig- 
nation of the degraded spirit, and its protest against 
the sins that dim its lustre. All the sophistry of 
animal man is insufficient entirely to brutahze himself, 
and to make him forgetful of his divine origin. In 
spite of all, the voice of his higher being speaks loudly 
and mightily within him. The conscience is the 
tongue of the spirit. 

And the spirit shall know no peace until it has con- 
quered. Every submission to the power of the sen- 
sual being increases its misery. Who has not heard, 
that in many cases, men, steeped in sin, and v/ho 
have lacked the courage to raise themselves out of it, 
have at length found their own degraded -condition 
so intolerable, that they have preferred to die, rather 
than live on in this state of dreadful enmity v/ith 
themselves ? 

We shall know no peace, until we have conquered 
the violence of those passions and desires that cause 
our misery — those passions and desires, the non-satis- 
faction of which keeps us in a state of constant dis- 
content, and the gratification of which by no means 
promises lasting happiness, nay, in many cases, can 
only be followed by bitter repentance. And peace is 
only to be obtained in Jesus, in His great and divine 
principles. 

If our spirits would again draw nigh to God, if the 
Eternal Father of Lio-ht is to recog-nize in us His 
children, created in His image, we must seek to 
attain the candour, the innocence of Jesus, and His 



PEACE IN JESUS. gj 

power of renouncing all that is of this world only. 
This is peace in Christ ! And without this there is 
no happiness in happiness, no peace in peace ! 

" In the world ye shall have tribulation," said 
Jesus : and is there any one who does not feel that 
his experience testifies to the truth of these words ? 
Here on earth we have no rest. Everything that 
surrounds us is pressing tumultuously towards the 
last resting-point, the threshold of eternity. Every- 
thing changes ; everything varies ; ' the days pass by, 
and the end of all things draws nigh. 

In the world ye shall have tribulation. Was there 
ever a mortal who could boast of having secured 
perfect happiness ? If there be one among us who 
has really obtained the object of his wishes, who has 
acquired great riches, received a lucrative appoint- 
ment, or distinguished honours, v/ho has triumphed 
over his adversaries, succeeded in forming a much- 
desired connection, or in securing retirement from 
the storms of the world — and who in the first moment 
of exceeding joy exclaims : ^' Now I am quite 
happy ! Now I have not another wish ! " how 
long will this delight last ? In a fQW hours already 
it begins to subside ; afcer a few days it is superseded 
by calm, after a few weeks by coldness. Habit 
engenders indifference. He begins to discover the 
thorns that belong to the rose, that every joy has 
its pain, and that light has its shade. New wishes 
arise, new views are adopted, and soon come new 
anxieties also. Improved circumstances have brought 
new cares and new tribulation. There is no lasting 
peace on earth. 

In the world ye will have tribulation. For tha 



88 PEACE IN JESUS. 

world means those earthly things with which the 
spirit can have nothing in common. The nature of 
the spirit is quite other. In vain it seeks comfort 
or happiness in the world. It never finds either. 
Thence its tribulation. It aspires to something 
better, and this aspiration remains unsatisfied until 
it leaves this world. Man can never satisfy this 
yearning for a better state as long as he looks down 
into the world, and not up into God's Heaven, where 
is his home. He can never satisfy this yearning as 
long as he does not learn to know himself, as long 
as he continues to look upon himself as an animal 
more than as a spirit. He can never satisfy this 
yearning as long as he seeks his highest happiness 
in what the world can give ; for it dwells not there. 
The ambitious find it not in the highest honours ; 
the voluptuary finds it not in the gratification of 
his impure desires ; the glutton finds it not in abund- 
ance of good cheer, the drunkard not in the cost- 
liest wine, the covetous not in his heaped-up gold. 
For when each has obtained that for which he has 
laboured, for which he has sacrificed his rest, he has 
at the utmost secured momentary gratification of his 
earthly, animal desires, but not happiness, not the 
fulfilment of all his v/ishes ; because out of that 
which he has obtained arise new wants, new desires, 
new anxieties. And the further he proceeds in this 
false path, the further he deviates from the road that 
leads to the true goal of the spirit, to all that is divine ; 
in other words, the oftener he is induced to satisfy his 
desires by unrighteous means, the greater is his tribu- 
lation. Peace he finds not. 

Therefore spake Jesus, the searcher of the human 



PEACE IN JESUS. 89 

heart, the heavenly messenger who came to bring true 
happiness : " In the world ye will have tribulation." 

But he said also : " Be of good cheer : I have 
overcome the world." He overcame the world by 
throwing the light of eternal truth on all that belongs 
to the flesh and to sin, and showing men that therein 
they could find no lasting happiness. He overcame 
the world, not for Himself, but for the whole race 
of spirits prone to sin. He overcame the world by 
lifting up our spirits above that, which is merely 
earthly and transient. 

As in each individual human being the rational 
spirit ought to be elevated above the animal wants 
of the body, and ought to control the passions and 
desires which are in opposition to reason and con- 
science : so the true place occupied by the great 
realm of spirits, is between the earthly world and 
God. Thousands of gradations fill the immense in- 
terval between the dust and the Deity. Some one 
of these, be it higher, or be it lower, is occupied 
by the spirits. The more sensual a man is^ the more 
he clings to the pleasures of this world, the more 
unscrupulous he is in satisfying his sinful desires, the 
lower he stands, the further he is from God ; the 
nearer he is to the animal. The more perfectly 
the human spirit masters itself: the more power it 
evinces in resisting that which is forbidden, in sup- 
pressing animal desires which pollute its conscious- 
ness : the more capable it is of noble self-sacrifice 
for the benefit of others : the purer, the more ex- 
alted, the happier it is, and the nearer to its origin, 
to God, the Father of Light. 

This is the great error of men, that they fail to 



go PEACE IN JESUS. 

understand themselves, and the yearning after better 
thino-s that ever dwells in their hearts : and thev de- 
scend towards evil, instead of ascending tov/ards truth, 
justice and holiness. " In the world ye will have 
tribulation : " only in adopting the meek, just and holy 
spirit of Jesus will ye find peace. The less you 
demand of the world, the more happiness will flow 
into your spirits from above. The less you are con- 
cerned about the comforts of life, about the attainment 
of worldly honours, about the acquisition of wealth, 
about the enjoyment of vain pleasures ; the more you 
strive to be honest, candid, content with little, free 
from all reproach, and useful to your fellow men ; the 
more certainly will you be preparing for yourselves a 
happiness, independent of all accidents, a peace of 
mind that no outward storms can disturb. This is 
peace in Jesus. And it is in order that we rnay have 
peace in Him, that His revelations and teachings have 
been vouchsafed to us. He is the light that illumineth 
our path : He, that is to say His Holy Spirit, is the 
way of truth and of life, that leads to God. Through 
our faults and our sins we are in conflict with God. 
Without God there is no peace, and through Jesus we 
find God. Therefore is He called the Reconciler, 
the Redeemer, the Saviour. O Prince of Spirits, Son 
of God, who came into this earthly Hfe to seek out 
Thy brethren, that Thou mightst restore to them 
the peace of God, their childlike relation to the 
Father of all spirits, and their union with Him, Thou 
thoughtest of me also! There is no salvation for 
me, save in Thee, no peace on earth or on high save 
in Thee. 

In vain will be my endeavours to alter my earthly 



PEACE IN JESUS. qI 

relations, to improve my position, as long as my whole 
life and being are more bound up with the world than 
with Thee. For in the world, and in all that I de- 
mand of it, there is tribulation. Even the joy of 
parents in their children, even the delights of friend- 
ship, even the transports of pure love cause tribula- 
tion. For whatever belongs to this world must pass 
away. Loving parents must part from their children, 
and faithful hearts break in death. 

But Thou hast overcome the world — in Thee is 
peace. Therefore will I also overcome the world, 
and seek rest and peace in Thee ! And even though 
loving hearts break in death, I know that spirits do 
not die, and that their love lives on with them. It is 
not the dust, not the fleshly covering that is im- 
portant : and not the dust, but the spirit should the 
spirit embrace. "^ 

O Light of my life, illuminate for me the path that 
leads to God, the Eternal source of all light. May I 
never stray from Thee ; for in Thee only is there 
virtue and peace. Should I be a prey to anxiet}' and 
care, to remorse, vexation, and tormenting desires, I 
shall know that I am not in Thee, but in the world ; 
that I am at war with my better self, with Thee, and 
with God ; and I will turn back from mv errors to 
Thy truth. He who thinks and acts in Thy spirit, is 
in Thee, and has eternal hfe. Oh, help me to attain 
it ! Amen. 



HOW IS THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 
OF GROWTH IN PERFECTION TO BE 
CARRIED OUT IN DAILY LIFE? 

FIRST MEDITATION. 

When In my purpose I rejoice, 

Thy steadfast follower to be, 
Grant that I oft renew my choice, 

To love Thee, Lord, and only Thee. 
And while inspired with holy zeal. 
Make me to practise what I feel. 

That I may sooner reach the goal. 

Oh, ne'er let sin my time divide 
With Thee, my God j take Thou the whole - 

Then shall no hour to Thee denied, 
No needed service left undone, 
Accuse me. Lord, before Thy throne. 

Let all the treasures I possess. 

My strength, my goods, with joy be given, 

Mankind, and so myself, to bless j 
So shall I live for God and Heaven j 

So grow into perfection. — Thine 

The praise, O God ! — the blessing mine. 

(John xii. 26.) 

It is not uncommon for people at the commencement 
of a New Year to determine to adopt higher princi- 
ples, to change their mode of life, and to become, as 
it were, new beings with the new year. They are in 
earnest, and renew their resolutions at the commence- 
ment of many a day and many a week. They may, 
perhaps, even succeed in remaining faithful to their 
resolves for some short period. They may for a time 



CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE IN DAILY LIFE, 



93 



seek and find peace within and without by conquering 
themselves. But gradually their zeal cools. As they 
become more immersed in the business of life, the 
good resolves which they formed are thrown into the 
shade. They find it more convenient, and even think 
it necessary, to adopt again the former tone, to recom- 
mence their former mode of life. By the time the year 
has gone by, they have returned to the point from 
whence they started. 

Many persons are very ready, yvhen imprudence or 
any of their pet faults have led them into difficulties, 
solemnly to renounce in their hearts the special sin 
that has caused their uneasiness. They recognize 
with almost exaggerated earnestness that the enjoy- 
ment derived from the fulfilment of passionate desires, 
is not worth the anxiety and grief that follow. But 
the trouble and difficulty^ pass away; the repentant 
sinners recover their repose of mind ; they are once 
more able to enjoy, and lo, gradually they yield again 
to the evil tendency, though cunningly refraining from 
extremes. They remain evil-minded as before, and, 
notwithstanding all their prudence, prepare anew for 
themselves hours of suffering which they might easilv 
have avoided. 

Many, again, who are really earnestly bent upon 
self improvement, when praying to God, when 
engaged in solitary meditation, shudder at their own 
perverseness and iniquity, and are abashed to find that 
with all their good-will they have not made greater 
progress in goodness. In solitude they are excellent 
and full of benevolent feelings , but when they mix 
with other men, and are engaged in their ordinary 
avocations, they become different beings, and however 



QA CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 

hard they may try, they find it impossible to be in all 
places and at all times the same. 

Is there one of us who has not felt this ? Is there 
one of us who has not often experienced that we seem 
inspired by a different spirit when in solitude or retire- 
ment, and when in the midst of the busy turmoil of 
life ? Only look at the congregation when assembled 
in the house of God ! What earnestness, what 
solemn stillness and devotion in all ! Who would 
believe that the hearts of these people, assembled to 
pay unanimous homage to the Father of their being, 
will beat in enmity towards each other, as soon as 
they shall have crossed the threshold of the temple ? 
Who would believe that these same eyes, now so 
reverently cast down before the Omnipresent, in daily 
life, beyond the v/alls of the sanctuary, frequently 
look down with pride and disdain on their fellow-men ? 
Who would believe that the very lips which are here 
giving utterance to pious prayers, or are pouring forth 
solemn hymns of devotion, could at other times give 
vent to slander and contempt, to malignant observations 
and base flattery, to falsehood and deception ? In the 
temple of God all seem full of virtue and holiness, 
while in the outer world they are a prey to passions 
and vices. In the temple all seem to belong to 
eternity, in their daily life to this world only. 

What a contrast ! What self-deception, what false 
appearances ! And yet the picture is but too true ; 
who can deny it ? 

Almost every human being is consequently in con- 
tradiction with himself. In one place he sins, in 
another he repents. At length, disheartened, and 
•discontented v/ith himself, he despairs of the posi- 



IN DAILT LIFE. q^ 

bility of reaching that perfection Vv^hich Jesus demands 
of him, which God wills that he should attain, and 
which his own conscience tells him that he ought to 
attain. 

Then, finding this inward strife intolerable, he 
begins to comfort himself with false reasonings. He 
says to himself: ^' The spirit is willing, but the flesh is 
weak ; the will to do right I have, but the power to 
carry out my will fails me. It is impossible to become 
a saint in this life already. Every human being m.ust 
have some failings. God will not demand more of 
man than he is capable of rendering. It is not possible 
that amid the business transactions, and the ordinary 
dealings and distractions of life, we should always be 
able to remem.ber the duties which religion imposes 
upon us ; it is not possible that in our intercourse with 
persons of various characters we can always be think- 
ing of God and of eternity, and of the solemm pro- 
mises that we have made ! Either we must deny 
our own nature, and become dreamers though living 
in the world, or we must retire into solitude, where 
we have nothing to do but to meditate upon reli- 
gion." 

Such attempts at self-justincation are very com.mon 
among men. We m^ay hear such reasonino;s every 
day whenever conversation turns on these subjects. 
Yet those who utter them cannot but feel that they 
may serve to excuse the frivolous and the bad, as 
well as the truly upright. They are uttered before 
men, and perhaps repented of before God. For it 
is not thus that our conscience speaks, and Jesus 
tells us : '' If any man serve Me, let him follow 
Me 5 and where I am there shall also my servant be ; 



n6 CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 

if any man serve Me, him will my Father honour." 
(John xii. 26.) 

But how am I to reconcile this difference between 
my will and my acts ? How am I, as a Christian, 
that is to say, as a truly wise man, consistently to 
maintain my principles amid the bustle of every-day 
life ? 

This question is one of the utmost importance as 
regards my spiritual welfare, and deserves my earnest 
attention ; for upon the mode in which I answer it, 
depends the virtue and the happiness of my life. How- 
ever, it is a difficult question to answer, or at least 
seems so. Were it otherwise, why should so many 
still be the prey of this contradiction between their 
good resolves and their worthless actions ? Were it 
otherwise, why should so few make a hearty beginning 
to carry out in daily Hfe principles which they cannot 
but approve ? 

It is because the good resolutions which we form 
in solitude, when engaged in prayer, or during public 
worship, or immediately after some serious event in 
life, are the fruits of strong emotion, and not of calm 
and mature reflection. When our hearts are touched, 
everything seems easy ; afterwards, when we have 
to put our resolves into execution, it is otherwise. 
When we are under the influence of strong feeling, 
the world appears to us in a very different light from 
that in which it presents itself when we are less 
excited. Therefore as soon as the emotion has 
subsided and the mind recovers its usual composure, 
v/e begin to perceive that things are not such as 
we fancied during the moments of excitement, and 
cannot be so easily effected -, that we cannot adapt 



7A' DAILT LIFE. gy 

the world to our feelings, but that v/e must adapt our 
feelings to the v/orld. 

Our mistake is therefore this, that we mrke our 
resolves to reform, to become nobler beings, more 
worthy of ourselves and of God, during moments of 
enthusiasm, or of fear and contrition. For all strong 
emotions are evanescent, and with them vanishes the 
strength of the great resolve. We are much more 
likely to cblXYY out what we have previouslv calmly 
and deeply pondered upon. For the power of under- 
standing, exercised in reflection, ever remains with us, 
whereas mere emotion soon subsides. 

Many who believe that they w^ill be able to remain 
faithful to the resolutions formicd in moments of 
solemn mental agitation, but who feel, on the other 
hand, that they are likely to meet with numerous 
obstacles in the common w^alks of life, withdraw as 
much as possible from the so-called turmoil of the 
world, and form a new life for themselves. Care- 
fully avoiding all gaiety, they endeavour to m.aintain 
constantly an equable and calm state of mind, and 
try to awaken in themselves as often as possible 
the sacred em^otions that have led to their desire for 
reformation. For this reason they pray frequently, 
assume a tone and manner indicative of contempt for 
the world, its hopes and wishes, shun as sinful all 
amusements, however innocent they may be, neglect 
no opportunity of going to church, and speak ever in 
a devout tone — observing all these rules even when 
their minds are in a state utterly at variance with 
them, and when pursuing avocations quite incom- 
patible with such feelings. 

What is the result ? A habit of outward decorum 

H 



98 



CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 



and piety ; a canting play with feelings, images, and 
modes of expression ; and finally, very frequently an 
extravagant enthusiasm which remains barren as far 
as the fruits of an active Christian life are concerned, 
and such as was never inculcated by Jesus, who sent 
out His disciples on active errands of usefulness among 
the people ; or else a system of passive hypocrisy, in 
which language, manner, and pious exercises are but 
too often in direct contradiction with what is passing 
in the heart and mind. 

The holy religion of Jesus nowhere admonishes to 
such a life, to such retirement, to such constant as- 
sumption of pious demeanour, when we are inclined 
to enjoy v/ith light hearts the good gifts of God ; to 
such praying and devotional retirement when not 
moved thereto in our inmost souls. Nay, Christ de- 
mands that our prayers shall not be learnt by rote, 
shall not be long and tedious, shall not be a mere 
thoughtless utterance of words. He commands us to 
take an active and useful part in real life. He did not 
condemn those v/ho endeavoured diligently to promote 
the good of the v/orld. He did not demand of kings 
and of the great men of the earth, that, instead of 
attending to the wants of the people confided to their 
keeping, they should withdraw from the world, shun 
all pomp, and only give themselves up to prayer. 
Nay, Jesus knew the world, and yet He sent Flis dis- 
ciples out into it. Fie knew how much persecution 
and suffering they v/ould be exposed to, yet He v/ould 
not that they should grow effeminate, but encouraged 
them, saying : " I send you forth like lambs unto 
wolves : but fear not, and put your faith in the 
Heavenly Father.^' 



IN DAILY LIFE. go 

Therefore let no one torment himself with doubts 
as to the possibility of his progressing in perfection, 
because he cannot at once put into practice all that 
which, in moments when his heart is deeply moved, 
he promises himself that he will do. Let him not 
think himself incapable of improvement because his 
most noble emotions are but transient. He has only 
been mistaken as to the means of improvement he has 
trusted in. He has endeavoured to render constant 
and .permanent feelings which in 'their nature are 
fleeting, and has forgotten that, in dom.estic as in 
public life, man can only cany into eftect that which 
he has calmly matured within himself, and the adap- 
tation of which to surrounding circumstances he has 
well calculated. 

But there is another reason v/hich is also frequently 
the cause of our despairing teo soon of our capacity 
to remain faithful to our best resolutions : this is, that 
we undertake too much at a time, and more than it is 
possible we should ever accomplish. 

Thus, for instance, in some solitary hour of medi- 
tation we determine to conquer ever7 passion v/hich 
occasionally leads us to, evil. As long as we are alone, 
as long as no one irritates us, as long as our minds 
remain calm, it seems very easy to resolve never ao-ain 
to be angry, never to entertain feelings of hatred, 
never to listen to the temptings of the senses. But 
one step out into the real world, and everything is 
changed. Our desires are again awakened, our pas- 
sions are again aroused. We cannot help resuming 
our former mode of action towards other m.en. We 
are even provoked by them into being far worse than 
we would desire to be., This is but a natural conse- 

H 2 



100 CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 

quence of our constitution ; frequently of the state 
of the body, of the nature of the temperament, or of 
the condition of health. We cannot possibly prevent 
our feelings and passions from being roused, for they 
are as much part of our being as is every breath we 
draw. We cannot possibly remain so cold and apa- 
thetic as to be able to look with indifference on every- 
thing that surrounds or befalls us. Neither does 
Jesus demand this of us. Even He did not look with 
indifference on the money-changers and traders who 
desecrated the temple, or on the hypocritical pro- 
ceedings of the Pharisees. But by the strength of 
our will we can prevent the passions w^hich dwell in 
us, and which have their source in our temperament, 
from taking an evil direction. How to do this, Jesus 
teaches us by word and by example. 

It follows from this, that to require the total anni- 
hilation of all our desires and passions vi^ould be an 
unnatural demand, w^hich would be contrary to the 
ends of the Deity, and which must destroy either our 
health or our active piety. To renounce the pleasures 
of life is to disdain the sweet gifcs of God, which He 
has bestowed for our happiness. To shun men and 
seek solitude is indeed one means of lulling to sleep 
the passions which awaken in the bustle of the world j 
but such renunciation of the world is a renunciation 
of all the good which we are called by God's will, 
and the example of Jesus, to perform. The lifeless 
stone cannot indeed sin , but is it therefore virtuous ? 
The man who retires into solitude to pray and to 
subdue his passions, while others labour for him, 
and take care of him : is he not a very useless 
member of human society r Is he not like unto 



IN DAILY LIFE, 



lOI 



the servant in the Gospel of whom Jesus spoke, 
who buried his talent instead of making it fruitful in 
further blessings ? And if even the health of the body 
escape entire destruction by such unnatural abstinence 
and self-annihilation, are there not m,any other pas- 
sions that will remain, and against which neither 
praying nor fasting can avail ? Does not the un- 
natural state thus induced, on the contrary, very 
ofcen lead to far more unnatural and sinful intem- 
perance ? 

When the Eternal Creator called man into life. He 
spake : '' It is not good that man should be alone ^ ^' 
and, " In the sweat of his brov/ he shall eat his bread." 
Can it have been the intention of the Eternal Son to 
chan2:e the order of the creation and the decrees of 
the Divine Ruler of the universe ? 

Not so ! We were cre^ed to live for each other, 
and, therefore, with each other. We were created 
with various capacities and pov/ers, in order that we 
mJght serve each other in many ways. Jesus, the 
Divine Enlightener of the world ; His disciples ; the 
early Christians in the first century, did not fly to the 
desert to escape the turmoil of the world, but entered 
manfully into life, endeavouring to spread the holy 
kingdom of God, each one according to his capacity, 
his power, and his opportunity. 

The doubts of many persons as to the possibility of 
their attaining to a high degree of religious perfection 
in this world, thus evidently spring from the false 
views which they take of life, and many a time good 
intentions have failed to be carried out because they 
were either merely the result of strong, and therefore 



102 CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 

unenduring emotions, or because they v/ere at variance 
with human nature. 

And yet God has called us to glory ! And yet 
Jesus has admonished us : "Be ye perfect as your 
Father in Heaven is perfect ! " And yet our own 
conscience warns us to improve our inv/ard worth ! 
Is it possible to believe that all these sacred voices 
should jom in demanding the impossible ? 

Many miorcals, indeed, who, held captive in the 
chains of their sensuality, find the exercise of all 
higher virtues burdensom.e, are apt to look upon the 
lower grades of perfection even as impossible of at- 
tainmxcnt. Such sybarites, however, v/ho live only 
for riches and honours, and for the enjoyments and 
consideration of society, and who avoid every effort 
tov/ards mental and moral improvement, seek merely 
to justify their own v/eakness. To such as these no 
wise man would listen 3 and even their own con- 
science rejects the false reasonings with v/hich they 
endeavour to pacify it. 

Thy yoke is sweet, O Saviour of the Vv^orld, O 
Enlightener of all spirits, and Thy burden is light ! 
Why then, being Thy disciple, should I despair of 
becom.ing one day Hke unto Thee ? Why should I 
despair of one day carrying out the good resolutions 
which I form r Should 1, even at times, yielding to 
my weaknesses, leave the right path and sink on the 
way — Wilt not Thou, O merciful One, also be 
merciful unto rae r Even the righteous may fail, but 
they fail against their will. Even the most upright, 
the noblest of men, are liable to error and rashness ; 
but when they stumble they only rise up the more 



CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE IN DAILY LIFE. 103 

determined TxCver to fall again ; they only endeavour 
the more zealously to make amends for their fault 
by acts of charity and goodness — to atone for their 
momentary dereliction by a long series of virtuous 
actions. 

O Spirit of Holiness, enlighten my soul, that I 
may choose the true path of the Christian; and give 
me strength and courage to lead a life of godliness in 
the midst of the pressure and turmoil of the world, 
until my goal be reached ! Am.en; 



HOW IS THE CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE OF 
GROWTH IN PERFECTION TO BE 
CARRIED OUT IN DAILY LIFE? 

SECOND MEDITATION. 

Grant me a way, O Lord, and Saviour mine, 
Thy praise to show, and prove that I am Thine — 
Help me when sin allures with promise fair. 
To shun the snare. 

Let good-will strengthen me for others' neeJs, 
And time and place still serve for noble deeds, 
That piously the work of love be done. 
As 'twas begun. 

Courage and zeal Thy will and work demand, 
Oh ! may the timid pretext never stand. 
That for T^hy purposes my strength may quail, 
Or due time faii ! 

Yes, I will learn to rule this stubborn clay, 
Will drive tem.ptadon's false delights away. 
So that I daily over every sin 

New strength may win. 

(Luke ix. 23.) 

The pious emotions awakened in hours of devotion 
or repentance, or on an occasion of great and serious 
events, are not indeed to be held light. They 
strengthen the power of our souls, and promote the 
desire and the resolution to do good. 

Yet, neither in Divine things nor in worldly matters 
must we allow the feelings of the heart to bear sway. 
He who rests his virtue on feeling only, chooses a very 



CHRlS-riAN PRINCIPLE IN DAILY LIFE. io$ 

fragile staff. Our feelings in themselves depend much 
less upon the strength of the mind than on the con- 
stitution of the body ; and how many changes is not 
the latter subject to ! How variable are not our daily 
moods ! 

Persons who are of a very sensitive nature, and so 
prone to strong feelings that these assume, in a great 
measure, a permanent character, run great risk of be- 
coming one-sided in their judgments of men and of 
life in its various aspects, and are apt to look upon all 
those who feel less strongly than themselves as hard 
and cold, and wanting in goodness of heart. 

The longer a man allows his feelings this power 
over his judgment and his entire life, the more false 
does his view of the world become ; and his under- 
standing and his reason are eventually as injuriously 
affected by it, in the same ^manner as they would be 
if he allowed similar preponderance to his lower or 
animal passions. Pious emotions, when allowed to 
warp the judgment, degenerate into barren enthusiasm., 
and the wisdom contained in the teachings of Jesus is 
degraded into a religion of the imagination. A man 
whoj having allov/ed his feelings to grow and to 
strengthen at the expense of all his other miental 
faculties, and w^ho has thus come to believe that he 
has attained the loftiest height of hum.an magnanimitv, 
and that the rest of the v/orld is sunk in darkness, 
unbelief, and vice — such a man is sick in soul. 

And if the poor creature turn dizzy on the pinnacle 
on which he has placed himself, he has but to make 
one step more and he will probably be plunged in total 
mental darkness, be given up to visions and miracles, 
to mysticism and prophesying, or to irreligiosity and 



IC6 CimiZllAN PFdNCIPLE 

total unbelief. For unhappily, the world affords too 
many examples of how quick is the transition in such 
minds, and how frequently some insignificant circum.- 
stance that convinces them of the self-delusion which 
they have so long been practising, suffices to destroy 
all their previous convictions — if indeed that can be 
termed conviction, v/h:ch springs exclusively from the 
feelings. Thus it has always been found that the most 
senseless, mischievous, and wanton scoffers at religion 
have, in their earlier years, been religious enthusiasts ; 
and, on the other hand, that irreligious persons, after 
having run through every possible extravagance, are 
apt to become sanctimonious devotees in old age. 
The same cause is at work in both cases. These 
persons, naturally of an emotional temperament, have 
allov/ed their feelino-s unchecked dominion. 

o 

But, O man, not thy heart is immortal — this will 
decay in the grave with thy body- — thy spirit only is 
so ! Not thy feelings are immortal — these will pass 
away v/ith the heart in which they have their source 
— only the strength and power of thy spirit is so ! 
Therefore, the feelings of the heart must not be per- 
mitted to usurp the dominion over the searching and 
testing spirit, but must be no more than its assistants 
and handmiaidens. 

The religion of Jesus is not a mere play of feelings, 
but a work of the Spirit for immortal spirits. So also 
the Deity doth not abide in emotions, but in the 
highest knowledge of truth, justice, and perfection. 
God is a Spirit, and those who vv^orship Him must 
worship in spirit and in truth. But to ehcit truth is 
the work of reason, with which God endowed us that 
we miorht discover it. 



IN DAILY LIFE. IO7 

The lessons which the disciples of Jesus received 
from their Divine Master^ and v/hich they were to 
practise in Hfe, had not reference to the feelings alone, 
but to principles, to deeply-studied truths. And v/hen 
I make the great resolve to be in future a more ex- 
alted spirit, to strive after likeness to God, after per- 
fection, this ought not to be the effect of some pious 
emotion only, but of calm and earnest reflection. 

When a man intends to sketch out a plan of some 
great and important undertaking relative to w^orldly 
matters, he first weighs and examines calmly and care- 
fully what means v/ill be most likely to help him to 
achieve his object; considers the circumstances amid 
which he w^ill have to act ; m.easures the extent of his 
own powers in respect of the undertaking; and even 
calculates the obstacles which he may possibly have to 
encounter, and ponders befo/ehand on the best means 
of overcoming them. 

And wouldst thou act more thoughtlessly, and with 
less consideration in matters relating to divine things, 
to the vv^ell-being of thy immortal spirit, than to such 
as concern only thy v/orldly affairs ? Or dost thou 
think that the elevating, perfecting, and sanctifying of 
thy soul "reoAiire less effort and reflection than the 
increase of thy revenue, or of the consideration in 
which thou art held by the v/orld ? 

And if it be thy lofty purpose as a Christian, to 
carry out thy principles in daily life, and really to 
draw nearer every day to that perfection which God, 
and Jesus, and thine own better self, demand of thee : 
then make thy resolution after mature consideration of 
all that is required to carry it into effect. A lively 
emotion may give the first impulse to this resolution ; 



IC8 CHRlSriAN PRINCIPLE 

but the spark will soon die out, if the spirit do not fan 
it into a flame, in which it will itself be purged and 
purified. 

Do not begin by making a solemn promise to God 
that thou wilt at once become a holier being, and 
that thou wilt conquer all thy faults and all thy pas- 
sions ; for experience ought to have taught thee ere 
this, that thou wilt be unable to fulfil this rash pro- 
mise. 

On the contrary, ask thyself first : ^' Wherein am I 
most faulty ? Which are the defects in my character 
which more especially lead me to commit unjust acts ? 
And which is the one among these defects which is 
most injurious to myself and to others ? " Thou wilt 
j^ever have any difficulty in discovering these faults, 
for thy conscience, that is to say, the sacred though 
faint voice of thy spirit which is yearning for perfec- 
tion, will aid thee in detecting them. 

Then inquire further : " Whence comes this de- 
fect ? Is it owing to my early education ? Or is ic 
a consequence of the pov/er of outward things over 
me? Or the eftecc of my temperament ? Or is it 
perhaps caused by a still more deep-seated or con- 
cealed passion, or the result of some bad habit in- 
dulged in till it has become, as it were, second 
nature ? " 

And when thou hast thus fathomed the cause from 
which thy principal defect springs, then consider the 
circumstances amidst which thou livest, and the cha- 
racter of the persons by whom thou art surrounded ; 
reflect earnestly upon what would be the most effec- 
tive means of preventing these from calling forth this 
fault in you, and of rendering it innoxious to them 



IN DAILY LIFE. Iqq 

and to thee. To do this, it is not sufficient to make 
an impulsive resolution. Thou must take a calm and 
dehberate survey of all the means that may be avail- 
able for conquering the fault, whether it arise from 
thy education, thy temperament, or fromi habit. Pro- 
bably thou mayst not succeed in getting the better of 
it for some days, or even weeks or months. The 
evil tendency will, no doubt, often assail thee anew ; 
but thou wilt nevertheless be able to keep it in check, 
and gradually to conquer it, if, each time it stirs 
within thee, thou wilt recall to mind thy noble resolve, 
and say to thyself: ^' Now is the time to show 
strength of mind, and to exercise power over my 
lower nature." Avoid everything that is likely to 
tempt thee and to make thee forget thyself; but when 
thou canst not do so, then exert thyself to the utmost 
to master thy feelings, and to act in such manner that 
thou needst not be ashamed, even were the whole 
world to witness thy conduct. But never place thy- 
self in the way of temptation in order to test thy 
strength. They who expose themselves to tempta- 
tion, are sure, sooner or later, to succumb. The only 
means of destroying: our evil tendencies and of con- 
quering our weaknesses, is by never rousing them. 
If they are never called into activity, oiir faults at last 
die out of themselves. 

Do not attempt too much at once. First conquer 
the greatest obstacles in thy way to perfection, after- 
wards the others will be the more easily subdued. 
Attack thine enemies singly, if thou wouldst be victor. 
To wage war against all, at one and the same time, 
might prove too much for thy strength, and might end 
in robbing thee of all energy and hope. 



no CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 

In like manner it is easier, in daily life, to keep a 
strict guard over thyself, when thou hast only one 
enemy, though it be the strongest, and the greatest, to 
observe and to combat. This will allow thee to con- 
centrate thy strength, v/hich must, on the contrary, be 
divided if thou undertakest ever to keep carefully 
before thy mind every precept of Christianity, and 
anxiously to v/eigh and to test thy every thought and 
word. To carry out such an attempt exceeds the 
measure of human strength. 

Be without guile, take men as they are, and let 
thy intercourse with them be sim.ple and straightfor- 
ward, w^ithout always v/cighing and calculating results ; 
but never for one moment lose sight of thy chief 
enemy, thy besetting sin. This m.ust be destroyed, or 
at least be rendered harmless as regards thyself and 
others. Together v/ith some prominent faults, thou 
hast no doubt excellent qualities which endear thee to 
thy friends. Now, if thou succeeciest in divesting 
thyself of thy worst fault, thou wilt become even 
more attractive, and v/ilt be more esteemed by others, 
v/hile thy self-respect also will increase. 

Even in the midst of the turmoil of the world^ the 
difficulty of carrying out a simple resolution like this 
cannot be very great. The Christian who makes it 
will find that he has not undertaken an impossibility, 
for he will see around him thousands of persons who 
have in this way divested themselves of, and nov/ 
abhor, the very fault which still disfigures him. And 
that which is possible for others, why should it not 
be so for thee ? 

Many persons who have determined to effect in 
themselves a sudden and entire change of disposition. 



JN DAILY LIFE, 



III 



and who have aimed at rising at once from a state of 
2;reat unworthiness into one of the purest hohness, 
have become the victims of their own exaggerated 
resokitionSj and have not unfrequently fallen into the 
opposite extreme. Thus many a thoughtless prodigal 
has become a miser, many a profligate has become a 
suspicious and unsparing decrier of every innocent 
pleasure. But such conversion as this is not improve- 
ment, and the resolution to reform cannot, in their 
cases, have had its source in Christian wisdom. 

First struggle with thy principal weakness, and keep 
an ever wakeful eye upon it. If thou attemptest 
more than this in thy intercourse with the world, there 
is reason to fear that thou wilt succumb in the effort, 
or that thou mayst, in consequence of the over- 
straining of thy powers, fall into the opposite error, 
or perhaps become an eccentric personage, who dis- 
tinguishes himself by great peculiarities, v/ithout 
therefore being at all a better man than many a true 
Christian, who does his duty modestly, and makes no 
display of his virtues. 

It is indeed a great mistake to suppose that the 
truly wise man or Christian is always serious, and 
that he avoids all social pleasui^s. The follower of 
Jesus can do his duty and approve himself to God 
in playful as well as in earnest mood~in the theatre 
as well as in the temiple— at the banquet, amidst 
social mirth, as well as when attending to his business 
avocations — in a palace, surrounded by every luxury 
of life as well as in a hovel, in the m^idst of poverty 
and want. No occupation is sinful, no pleasure con- 
demnable, except such as cannot be followed or en- 
joyed without injury to others, without infringement 



112 



CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE 



of their rights, or without damaging our own repu- 
tation and stimulating the bad and unv/orthy tenden- 
cies in us. 

There are many noble Christians on this earth, full 
of godliness, but who shrink from displaying this 
before men by any affectation of peculiar sanctity, by 
the use of pious phraseology, or the adoption of par- 
ticular demureness of manner. Indeed, the modesty 
that belongs to the true Christian always leads him to 
conceal his own merits, and to place himself upon a 
level with others, not to endeavour to distinguish him- 
self from them. By so doing, he wins the affection 
and confidence of the good, as well as of the less 
good, and thus opens up new means of usefulness 
for himself. Like St. Paul, he makes himself every- 
thing to all men, in order that he may win many souls. 
Like Jesus Christ, he associates with publicans and 
sinners, without ever losing sight of the sublime ends 
he holds in view. 

And thus I learn to recognize the truth, O Saviour 
of my life, that Thou didst not demand impossibihties 
of us when Thou spakest, " Be ye perfect, even as 
your Father v/hich is in heaven is perfect," and when 
Thou saidst, '^ If any man will come after Me, let 
him deny himself, and take up his cross daily and 
follow Me." Yea, O Divine Purifier of my heart, I 
will follow Thee — follow Thee to God ! I will deny 
myself, and conqut^r myself when I am tempted by 
the lusts of the flesh ! I will daily put into execution 
the rules that I have laid down for the purpose of 
eradicating my most besetting sin, and thus eventually 
purge myself of all the weaknesses that cleave to me, 
however wearisome and painful the task may be. 



IN DAILY LIFE. 



1^3 



I have now found the true way of drawing nearer 
to Thee, O my Divine Teacher, and of becoming like 
unto Thee. I will strike my enemies one by one ; I 
will conquer the worst and most dangerous of my 
faults first ; the rest will then be the more easy to 
subdue. Then I shall be washed clean of all my sins 
and im.perfections by Thy blood, with which Thou 
didst attest the divine truth of Thy word. Then, 
O God and Father, most holy of Beings, I shall at 
last become worthy of the great end for v/hich, in 
Thy loving omnipotence^ Thou didst call me into 
being ! 

Father, my Father, I will it, and, supported by 
Thy strength and Thy grace, which are mighty in 
Thy children, I shall be able to accomplish what I 
will to do. I have often failed, for, though my 
intentions have been good^ they have not always 
been formed with the prudence and wisdom that be- 
seem a Christian, and I have in consequence lost 
courage, and been unfaithful to m.y resolutions. En- 
dow me, O Father, with strength and insight ! 
Enlighten me by Thy example, O Eternal Son ! 
Sanctify me in everlasting truth, O Holy Ghost ! 
Amen ! 



THE POWER OF PRAYER. 

When all my dearest pleasures fail. 
When all my brightes: stars grow pale, 
When blighted fortune prompts despair, 
I still find happiness in prayer. 

"When friends prove false who seemed most true, 
"When evil tongues do pierce me through, 
When in my feelings none can share, 
I sdll find happiness in prayer. 

Father ! with folded hands, to Thee, 
Imploringly I benJ the knee ; 
Raised o'er the world, death, every care, 
I stand before Thy throne in prayer. 

(i Thess. v. 17.) 

To pray, in the fulness of our hearts, to God in His 
Infinite Wisdom, is to perform the most solemn and 
the most subHme act of hfe. This is not an earthly, 
but a heavenly occupation. We leave the realm of 
the transient and enter the kingdom of the spirit, our 
true home, and exercise the highest privilege vouch- 
safed to man, that of communion with the Most Holy, 
the Most High. 

All mankind pray : not only the Christian, but also 
the poor savage on the banks of some unknown 
stream in a distant land, humbles himself before God. 
For though his supplication may be addressed to an 
idol of stone, or to the stars of heaven — his aspira- 
tions mount towards the Incomprehensible, towards 
the Flighcst Being, who rules the world and rules 



THE FOV/ER OF PRATER. 



115 



man and his destinies. The heart of the savage is 
truly devout, though his mind is steeped in darkness. 

A human being, full of heartfelt devotion, pros- 
trated in the dust, with hands, eyes, and soul raised 
to God, presents a spectacle v^hich even to-uches the 
heart of the base profligate and inspires him v^ith 
respect. He is forced to confess : " This man is better 
and greater than I ! ^' 

All mankind pray. — And this inherent tendency in 
the human soul to return to the source of its being, 
is an attestation of its lofcy descent and of its higher 
future. 

The wisest of men pray, for in their hearts the 
yearning for reunion with God speaks more loudly 
even than in others. The old man prays^ for to him 
God has revealed Himself more distinctly in the varied 
events of life. The king prays, for in spite of all 
that venal tongues may say, which would not deign to 
flatter him did he not wear a crown, he feels that 
he is weak and pov/erless. In the midst of the 
borrowed splendour that surrounds the throne, his 
heart warns him that he is but dust, that he is a sin- 
ful creatUx^e, and that m^any of his subjects are more 
pious, better, miore pleasant in the sight of God than 
he. The buoyant youth prays, when, withdrawing 
from the noisy haunts of pleasure, he returns to so- 
litude in the quiet of the night. Behind the sunny 
landscape that surrounds him, he beholds the storm- 
pregnant clouds of the future approaching, and he 
trembles at the insufficiency of his own strength. 
He holds fast by God ; he knows no friend more 
faithful, no father who is kinder, no protector who 
is mightier. The rude warrior prays, when at night 

I 2 



Il6 THE POWER OF PRATER. 

he lays him down to rest on his blood-stained wea- 
pons. He knows that it is not to these that he owes 
his safety, but to One stronger than they — he knows 
that he has to go forth again to his terrible work, 
and that in a few moments his bleeding corpse may 
be stretched beside many others on the field of battle. 
The mother, surrounded by her sweet children, prays. 
God bestowed upon her these joys of her life, and 
God may take them away ; and the name of the Lord 
is blessed by her. The profligate, stretched on his 
bed of suffering, prays with tardy repentance. The 
hour-glass tells him that this life is not eternity, and in 
his mirror he catches a glimpse of the ghost of his 
former self. He now shudders with horror at the 
remembrance of his life so sinfully wasted, as formerly 
he smiled with scorn at the practices of true Chris- 
tians. The sorrov/ing widow prays beside the coffin 
of her beloved husband : the world has become a 
desert to her; she has lost what she cherished most, 
but God remains to her, and also a blessed hope, 
which dies not in the grave. The philanthropic 
sage prays, when, after some benevolent act, he 
sallies forth to draw new strength from the sio-ht of 
nature in her beauty, and v/hen, overv/helmed by the 
splendour of creation, he feels tears of emotion gather- 
ing in his eyes. 

One only stands aside unmoved, with stony heart, 
lookhig with a supercilious smile of pity or of surprise 
at the world in prayer, and asking : " Why do they 
pray ? If God is Omniscient, He knows what they 
want ; if God is All-wise, He knows better than we 
do what is good for us ; if God is All-good, He will 
not wait for our prayers, but will give us what we 



^HE POTVER OF PRATER. 



117 



need, without our asking for it. Why then do they 
pray ? " 

Thus speaks the self-sufficient sceptic. But even 
many Christians, who would be sorry to be consi- 
dered atheists, or to be failing in Christian faith, 
endeavour in like manner to justify to themselves 
their want of earnestness, their frequent neglect of 
all thoughts that lead to God, their aimless mode of 
life. They have strength enough to raise doubts in 
order to vindicate their ways to themselves; but they 
have not the courage, the capacity, or the will to 
see and to admit the worthlessness of these excuses. 

Why shouldst thou pray ? 

Not for God's sake, for God needs not thy prayers, 
thy supphcations, thy thanks ; and though thou mayst 
neglect His service, though thou mayst sink so far 
below thine own true wortff as to enjoy, like the 
animals, all the good gifts bestowed upon thee without 
one thought of the giver ; though thou mayst forget 
Him : He will not forget thee. For He is loving and 
merciful, and long-suffering. 

Not for God's sake shouldst thou pray, not in order 
to tell Him what thou needest, what thou fearest, 
what thou wishest. Before He called thee into exist- 
ence. He knew of what things thou wouldst have 
need ; for He is omniscient. (Matt. vi. 8.) 

Not for God's sake, not in order to teach Him 
what would be advantageous to thee, not in order 
to give counsel to Him— for He alone, before whom 
all the secrets of the past and of the future lie unveiled, 
knoweth what is good for us poor mortals under all 
circumstances and at all times : He is allwise. 

Not either for the sake of other men shouldst thou 



Il8 "I'iiE POPFER GF PRATER, 

pray, that they may account thee a good Christian, an 
upright citizen, a worthy father, an exemplary mother. 
If thou prayest in order to gain the good opinion of 
other men, without any thought of the importance, 
the dignity, and the solemnity of prayer, what art 
thou other than a blasphemous hypocrite, who tradest 
fraudulently with the most sacred act of religion, and 
who v/ould fain make even God an instrum.ent towards 
the attainment of his unw^orthy ends ? The severe 
words which Jesus once pronounced in condemnation 
of the praying Pharisees, will then apply to thee. 

Nor either shouldst thou pray from mere habit, 
because thou v/ert taught so to do v/hen a child, 
because it has ever been thy custom to say a prayer at 
stated hours of the day, because thou wishest to keep 
up the rules of thy parents and forefathers, which 
thou so grossly misunderstandest. The prayer of mere 
habit can have no value in the sight of God. Such 
prayer is no more than the emission of empty, soul- 
less words, which pass from the lips into the air, and 
there are dissolved into vapour. Rather spare thyself 
the trouble of such useless prayer, which is not 
pleasing to God, and which dishonours thyself. Thou 
dost not venture to address to thy earthly superiors, or 
even to thy equals, words that have no meaning, 
to which thou givest no thought, and thou darest 
to approach in spirit the throne of the Almighty, 
babbling sentences learnt by rote, without giving any 
attention to what they contain ! " When ye pray," 
saith Jesus, '' use not vain repetitions as the heathen 
do, who think that they shall be heard for their much 
speaking." Nay, only the prayer that is poured forth 



THE POfFER OF PRATER. jjg 

from the innermost depths of a truly devout heart, 
reaches to heaven. 

Why shouldst thou pray ? For thine own sake 
alone, and in order that thou mayst experience, in 
regard to thyself, the blessed and heavenly pov/er 
of prayer. 

Even the noblest of men, the most learned, the 
m.ost enlightened, are but Vv^eak mortals, as long as 
their spirits are clad in the veil of dust. It is im.pos- 
sible for them to remiain ever, or ev^n for any length 
of time, in the exalted mood, to Vv'hich their miinds 
are occasionally attuned by their power of insight, and 
by sublime principles, free from ail dross of earth. 
They ever sink back again into their lovv^er state ; 
they again seek support in human customs ; it is a 
satisfaction to them to feel like children— and indeed 
v/hat is man, in reference to his Father in heaven, but 
a child? 

Men need to turn their thoughts to God ; it is a 
necessity of their nature to commune, and to occupy 
themselves v/ith the Highest Being; they cannot be 
happy without feeling in their hearts confiding trust 
in the wise and kind Providence of an Infinite Father. 
And in like m.anner as they are wont to pour out their 
hearts to parents, friends, or protectors, although 
these may be well av/are of all that they have to say, 
and v/ou!d love them and protect and support them, 
though they spake no word — so also they address 
themselves to God v/ith calm, believing, child-like 
hearts. They lift up their thoughts full of reverence 
to the Ruler of the universe ; they breathe a gentle 
sigh towards the Fountain of all good. This is 
prayer. 



120 ^-^^ POPVER OF PRATER. 

The Omniscient knows the thought, knows the 
aspiration ; for what is hidden to the All-perfect One, 
whose Spirit permeates the universe, and stirs the 
mote dancing in the beam of the remotest star I 

But it is the very thought of His infinite greatness 
— a thought which is never more present to us than 
during prayer — that fills us with quickening confi- 
dence. Prayer then opens to us, as it were, the por- 
tals of the spirit-world, in which we also have some 
right of citizenship. We draw nearer to the Deity, 
and feel that v/e belong to Him. We rise on the 
wings of prayer, above all that is worthless and 
perishable, and become greater, yea, more divine, as 
we do so. The conviction becomes ever mightier 
within us that we can never cease to exist. We dis- 
tinguish more clearly between what is everlasting and 
what is perishable — between what is real and what is 
mere appearance. We see the whole universe in a 
new light. The globe on which we dwell becomes 
in our eyes a mere speck in the great immeasurable 
all of things. We descry, through the boundless 
distances of the starry heavens, a minute portion only 
of the great temple of the Holy of Holies, and we 
glow with rapture at the thought of having been made 
worthy, by the power of God, to be called inhabitants 
of this divine kingdom. 

And happy presentiments thrill through us. Hea- 
venly joy pervades all nature. This is the power of 
prayer ; this is the effect of drawing nigh unto God. 
No one can commune with God without feehng his 
spirit sanctified and purified by the act. 

When a child impresses a grateful kiss on the hand 
of father or mother, it expresses its noblest sentiments 



rHE POTTER OF PRATER. 121 

in human fashion. God created me, and assigned to 
me the lot of man : why should I endeavour to rise 
above the nature with which He has endowed me, 
and refuse to venerate Him in pure human fashion, 
with child-like mind ? If, in His grace. He vouch- 
safe to me in future, a higher grade of perfection, oh, 
then I shall, as angel or seraph, as denizen of a higher 
world, know how to worship Him in nobler and more 
worthy manner. But I am a human being — I am in 
His eyes but a prattling babe ; therefore, O ye scof- 
fers, let me honour my Creator, my Heavenly Father 
as a child does its father, and in the imperfect utter- 
ances of humanity. He lends his ear even to these 
imperfect utterances. He understands the meaning 
even of the silent tears that escape from my eyes, 
while they are uplifted to Him. Does not a tender, 
loving, human mother understand the first smile of 
her babe ? 

When giving myself entirely up to God in prayer, 
I feel like a child resting on the loving bosom of his 
father. I dread no fate that can befall me, for I am 
with Him. I fear no enemies, for He loves me. I 
go through the world with fuller confidence. Such is 
the power of prayer. 

And when I thus, with fervent piety, endeavour to 
draw nigh to the Holy of Holies, whom none dare 
approach who are not pure and sinless, every fault 
that I have committed, my precipitate actions, my 
passions, force themselves in between me and God. 
Alas ! I would fain hold communion with Him, and I 
am not worthy to look up to Him. Sinner as I am, I 
lie sorrowful at the feet of the Almighty, suing for 
mercy. Solemn, fervent promises of a better life in 



122 "THE POF^ER OF PRATER. 

future are ofFered up by me. They inspire me with 
new strength, new courage, renewed cheerfulness. 
The all-good God bears no resentment. How could 
a human passion, such as that which we call resent- 
ment, dwell in the mind of the All-perfect ? Nay, 
my punishment comes from m.y own sins ; it is I who 
feel resentment against myself; it is I who deplore 
that I have been growing in sinfulness, that I have 
been departing further from God. I strive to regain 
what I have lost. My Saviour has taught me that 
the i\ll-merciful will not reject the repentant sinner. 
And God hears my promises, and the Omniscient 
is vv'itness that I earnestly strive to fulfil them by 
conquering my faults. Full of love towards Him, I 
am full of love towards my fellov/-men. The prayer 
has purified and sanctifi.ed mie. Through it, I have 
becomiC a better, a more virtuous being than ,1 v;as 
before. Such is the power of prayer. 

He Vv^ho lives at enmity with the m.emibers of his 
household, w^ith relatives or acquaintances— he who 
takes malicious pleasure in disclosing the faults of his 
fellow-men, and who enviously depreciates their 
merits — he who deals in lies instead of truth, in dis- 
honesty instead of honesty, in persecution instead of 
kindness, in deception instead of noble uprightness — 
he cannot pray ! To pray is to be with God ; and he 
w^ho is v/ith God cannot persevere in sin. 

Thou prayest, O Christian, and pourest forth sup- 
plications. Yet what thou askest is not always 
granted. But sooner or later thou v>^ilt learn to see 
how injurious it v/ould have been for thee, had thy 
wishes been fulfilled. God is kinder to us than we 
are to ourselves, because He is w^iser. 



THE POJVER OF PRATER. 1 23 

But should we therefore cease to lay our supplica- 
tions before the Lord ? Ought we to renounce and 
desist from our child-like submission of our wishes to 
our Heavenly Father ? Nay, let not such thoughts 
disturb the holy relations between thee and God. 
''Ask, and it shall be given to thee ; knock, and the 
door shall be opened unto thee." 

Thou believest in a divine Providence, which from 
eternity hath ordered thy destiny. Has not then He 
v/hose providence thus rules, been cognizant of all 
that thou wouldst do, and of all that thou wouldst 
leave undone ; has Pie not known from all eternity 
what would be thy wants, thy prayers, and the m.oods 
of thy mind ? Yea, Pie did hear thy prayers before 
thou wert born. Yet thou prayest, and he who prays 
v/isely knows the blessing of prayer. 

Recall to mind the hours'^ in which thou hast stood 
before God with trembling heart, crying : " Save me, 
O merciful Father ! " Recall to mind the times when 
all thy prospects have been obscured, and when, on 
the brink of despair, thou hast turned in faith to the 
only God, crying: '' The darkness will not be dispelled 
except Thou sheddest light upon my future ! '' And 
lo ! circumstances to Vv'hich thou didst never look 
forward, events apparently the most insignificant, 
things v/hich men call accidental, have saved thee 
and improved thy condition. Thou hast regained 
thy happiness and thy cheerfulness. But, in the 
order of the divine creation, there is no such thing 
as chance or accident. There is a God of infinite 
power and m^ercy. Thou hast felt His presence. 
Such is the pov/er of prayer. 

I have felt Thy presence, O God and Father, when 



124 '^^^^ POV/ER OF PRATER. 

my soul has been most cast down ! I have felt Thy 
presence when the whole world around me has 
seemed dead as the barren desert. I have felt Thy 
presence when no other friend was left to me. I 
have felt Thy presence when I have been tottering 
on the threshold of death. Thou v/ert ever there, 
Thou didst ever remain. Thou didst succour me, 
Thou didst overwhelm m^e with Thv mercies, and 
didst change with Almighty hand the circumstances 
that surrounded me, and which seemed as if they 
could never be changed. 

Therefore, as long as I breathe, I will hold fast bv 
Thee; I will crv to Thee, '' Father, Father, which 
art in Heaven, hallowed be Thv name." Therefore 
will I ever chng to Thee with childlike trust. Thou 
listenest to my stammering voice, Thou understandest 
the meaning of my tears. Thou knowest the. secret 
of my sighs. 

In Thee, through Thee, with Thee alone, can I 
be happy. Witliout Thee, my existence would be 
nought, and it would be better for me had I never 
been born. V\^here\'er Thou art, there is Heaven, 
there is bliss. I can never be unhappy save v/hen I 
stray from Thee. Amen. 



LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD. 

I love Thee, Lord ! Thou art my choice, 
In Thee my soul shall still rejoice, 

My heritage, my part ! 
Thee will I more than all things love, 
Obey Thee, joy all joys above ! 
Nor e'er let sin my sorrow prove ; 

Thou, Lord, my Saviour art 1 

My silent hours, how deeply blest ! 
In Thee my soul has found its rest, 

And heavenly pleasure known. 
O bliss ! to raise our souls to Thee, 
Thy life to live. Thy face to see, 
Who, guiding us so tenderly, 

A father's loVe hast shown. 

(i John iv. 16-21.) 

However important may be the relations in which a 
human being stands here on earth to the various com- 
panions of his life ; hovv^ever much these relations 
may lay hold upon his feelings and occupy his mind, 
be it as superior or inferior, as son, daughter, or head 
of a family ; as enterprising youth, to whom the world 
seems still full of hope and promise, or as a hoary- 
headed mian, surrounded by all the reverence his 
virtues mxcrit : there is one relation in which every 
mortal stands, which is more important, more attrac- 
tive, more unalterable, and more indestructible than 
any of these, and that is his relation to the Deity. 

Parents and relatives may die, but God ever re- 
mains with him. Friends change their minds, forget 



1 26 LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD. 

their most touching promises, prefer other hearts to 
ours — God ever remains faithful to us ! The fresh- 
ness and attraction of youthful beauty and grace are 
lost in a few years ; men^s admiring smiles become 
fewer — but God remains ever the sam.e ! War, fire, 
or rebellion may destroy my property ; my inferiors 
may cease to obey me ; old adherents may leave me 
to attach themselves to another; I am deserted, all 
my relations to my fellow-men are changed — but my 
relation to God can under2;o no shadow of chang-e ! 

Yet how different is the relation in which each one 
of the countless number of human beings v/ho look 
up to God, places himself to the Deity ! Perhaps 
there are no two mortals whose relation to their 
heavenly Ruler is exactly the same. 

The conception we form, of the Deity varies ac- 
cording to our position in life, to our experience and 
our knov/ledge. And our conception of Him regu- 
lates the relation in which we place ourselves to Him.. 
There are, for instance, barbarous nations, whose 
ideas of a Godhead are so imperfect, that they imagine 
themxSelves to be, not indeed more mightv, but in 
many respects cleverer than the Divinity, and who in 
consequence blam^e their gods for certain acts, and 
even scold them and laugh at them. These poor 
ignorants are as much to be pitied as miany Christians, 
v/ho are equally discontented, and who grumble v/hen 
God refuses to hear their prayers and to fulfil their 
foolish wishes. There are other people, again, Vv^hose 
notions of the Highest Being are so contemptible, 
that they do not fear to pray to Him for assistance 
in their m^ost infamous undertakings, in murder and 
robbery, in deception and seduction, or for the attain- 



LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD. 



127 



ment of the most frivolous objects, or for the satisfac- 
tion of their revengeful feelings. And, alas, that I 
should have to say so, it is not only among the heathens 
that this desecration of the Majesty of the Alm.ighty 
is met with ! Even Christians, even the so-called 
enlightened nations of Europe, at times express the 
hope that God will lend them His assistance to satisfy 
their ambition or their malice, or will become the 
instrument of human revenge ! Indeed nations fre- 
quently, by command of their rulers, pray to God the 
one for the destruction of the other ! 

Is this a worthy relation for man to place himself 
in to God ? Is it the right relation ? How con- 
temptible are your experiences, how pitiable your con- 
ceptions ! If the beasts of prey in the wilderness 
could form an idea of the Deity, it v/ould be such as 
yours, and their prayers also would be such as yours. 
Strength, booty, subjection, victory — such would be 
their burden ! 

The conceptions of the Highest Being formed 
by men, are also in a great measure dependent on the 
differences in their temperaments. 

Men who are by nature prone to gentle, com.pas- 
sionate, and cheerful sentiments, think of God as the 
all-merciful, loving, long-suffering Father, who never 
can or will punish v/ith inexorable sevei-ity. On the 
other hand, m.inds of a dark and passionate character, 
easily roused to anger, form a conception of the Deity 
as a strong and jealous God, as an angry, threatening, 
relentless judge, who punishes the sins of the fathers 
on the children in the third and fourth generation. 
Minds inclined to melancholy recognize in the Creator 
of Spirits an earnest educator, who tiies them in all 



128 LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD. 

kinds of suffering, before He admits them to be par- 
ticipators in His bliss ; who allows them to found no 
hope on their ov/n worth or merits, but sends them 
salvation exclusively through the blood of the Lamb, 
who was sacrificed for the sins of the world. The 
proud and the arrogant conceive of God as the most 
exalted Being, as the King of the world, who cannot 
be approached, except through the intercession of 
Jesus — or other persons held by mortals to be 
saintly — or conceive of Him as being so far exalted 
above all creation, that He takes no heed of the fate_, 
the hopes, the sufferings, or prayers of individual men. 
So divers are the conceptions which men form of the 
Deity. Therefore one man, when he prays, looks 
upon himself as standing in the same relation to God, 
as that in v/hich a thoughtless and ignorant child stands 
to his father; another trembles before the All-just 
and All-mighty, like a timid slave. Another, over- 
whelmed by constant self-contempt and utter hope- 
lessness, strives only to secure to himself the mercy 
of Jesus and the imputation of His merits, imagining 
that whatever good man may possess in himself is al] 
vain, and is held as nought by God ; another strives 
to fulfil with anxious zeal every minute ordinance 
which he believes to emanate from the Deity, as 
though man depended on his own merits exclusively 
and had nothing to hope from the mercy of the 
Heavenly Father ; a third is more indifferent, because 
he believes it to be incompatible with the infinite 
majesty of God, and therefore improbable, that the 
Deity should take account of every individual, and of 
each of his actions, feelings, and thoughts, but that 
whoever has been elected for salvation will be saved j 



LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD, 1 29 

that all things are subject to the great law of eternal 
necessity. 

What is then the real, true relation in which I 
stand to my Creator, or in which I ought to stand to 
Him ? This I cannot learn from the lips of any 
mortal, but it is taught with certainty by Divine reve- 
lation in the Holy Scriptures. It is taught to me by 
Jesus and His disciples. 

And they teach me to look up to the Highest 
Spirit, the Creator of the universe, with childlike 
faith and trust. '' Have faith in God," cries Jesus. 
(Mark xi. 22.) He taught us to call God our Father. 
(Matt. vi. 8, 9.) He promises us in the name of 
God, the Rewarder of all, that our trespasses will be 
forgiven, if we forgive those who have trespassed 
against us. (Mark xi. 25.) He saith : ''And thou 
shalt love the Lord thy Go4 with all thy heart, and 
v/ith all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all 
thy strength : this is the first commandment ! And 
the second is like, namely this : thou shalt love thy 
neighbour as thyself. There is none other com- 
mandm.ent greater than these." (Mark xii. 30, 31.) 
This is more than all whole burnt offerings and sacri- 
fices. (xVIark xii. 33.) And he who believes this 
and can do this — only he, so saith Christ Himself, is 
not far from the kingdom of God. (Mark xii. 34.) 

Thus we are taught by Jesus the Messiah. There- 
fore all else which is taught and preached, and which 
differs from these divine words, from the sense of this 
divine revelation, is but human doo-matizins: and error, 

' DO? 

empty casuistry, or senseless fanaticism. Even though 
in the numerous cases wherein particular passages in 
the Old Testament seem to contradict the words of 

K 



130 LGVE AND FEAR OF GOD. 

Jesus, we have to attend to the sayings of the Divine 
Son, not to the sayings of the pious men and prophets, 
v^ho lived hundreds of years before the appearance of 
Jesus, and who could not rejoice in the light which 
v/e have attained through Him. Does not the ex- 
alted Enhghtener of the world Himself say : " I have 
not come to destroy, but to fulfil," to perfect, and to 
reveal the vv'ill of God in its fulness ? And He did so. 
And in what a sublime spirit ! How much more 
perfectly than all the prophets of the Old Testament ! 
See how He teaches it in the Gospel of St. Matthev/, 
V. 20-48, in words which every follower of the 
Saviour ought to imprint on his or her heart and 
memory. 

This also is the spirit in which the Apostles of the 
Lord, and m^ore especially John, the favourite of 
Jesus, taught : '^ God is love : " says St. John ! 
(i Ep. iv. 16-18) "and he that dvveileth' in love 
dwellethin God, and God in him. Herein is our love 
made perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of 
judgment. There is no fear in love : but perfect love 
casteth out fear : because fear has torment. He that 
feareth is not made perfect in love. We love Him 
because He first loved us." 

The Holy Scriptures do indeed also exhort us to 
be God-fearing, but this does not mean that we 
should be afraid of God, or that we should tremble 
at His wrath (only the sinner has to fear this, not 
the true Christian who lives and acts with and in 
God), but that we should hold sacred all things which 
bear upon our religion, that is to say the doctrines, 
opinions, and customs connected with our worship of 
God. The fear of God is the pious, holy dread of 



LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD. I3I 

desecrating: auo;ht that has been consecrated to God 
and to His worship. But those who truly love God 
cannot be devoid of reverence for Him and for ail 
things that are consecrated to Him. Can a child love 
his father tenderly and yet not feel respect and affec- 
tion for all that in any way belongs to his father, or 
for that which the love of others has dedicated to his 
father, or for all that emanates from him ? 

In this sense fear of God may be combined with 
the most ardent love of God, without the latter being 
in any v/ay mixed up v/ith terror^ anguish, or appre- 
hension. Fear of God is the fruit of deep-felt love 
of God. 

Very few persons stand in this relation of guileless, 
trusting, childlike love to our Father in Heaven. In 
vain do Jesus and His holy messengers exhort us to 
this love. Nevertheless fear predominates in most 
hearts. Most men pray to the Father not so much 
from love, or from an impulse of the heart to dis- 
burden itself of its infinite debt of gratitude towards 
the Giver of all good, but because they dread His 
judgments, because they tremble at the thought of 
the day of retribution, or because they feel them- 
selves in danger of destruction and know no other 
help or refuge than the Almighty. 

How, then, am I to re-establish my relation to 
God, so that it may be in harmony with what Jesus 
teaches ? How can I attain to true, pure, simple, 
childlike, trusting love to God ? 

To love God, we must know Him. For how 
canst thou love even a human being, of whom thou 
knowest Httle or nothing ? Thy reverence, thy love, 
thy heartfelt worship of Him, v/ho is alone v/orthy 

K 2 



I02 LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD, 

of worship, will increase in exact proportion to thy 
extended knowledge of His greatness, His holiness, 
and His mercy. 

However, thou canst not learn to know Him by 
merely learning to repeat by rote biblical phrases or 
other words that speak generally of the Divine attri- 
butes. Thou must go forth thyself, and seek Him 
out in His creation, which bears witness to His mar- 
vellous wisdom ; in His guidance of the world and of 
the destinies of the nations that inhabit it; in the 
lovino- care of aU which He is- constantly manifesting, 
yea, even daily in the events of thine own life. 

And if thou findest that thy mind and heart, op- 
pressed by the burdens of the day, are not always 
capable of devoting themselves to this sublime occu- 
pation, then seek recreation and instruction in reading 
the books of wise and experienced men on the works 
of God in nature. By the instruction which thou 
wilt derive from these the eyts of thy spirit will be 
opened, and thou v/ilt discern more clearly. Or 
visit the temple of the Lord with true devotion and a 
sincere desire for edification, and listen to the ex- 
position and application of divine truths, which thou 
hast an opportunity of hearing there every Sunday. 
Neglect no occasion that may present itself of en- 
lightening thy understanding, and thereby increasing 
thy knowledge of God. The more clearly thou dis- 
cernest the Father of all, the more sublime and 
majestic will He appear to thee, the more inscrutable 
in His wisdom, the more holy in His guidance of 
man, the more inexhaustible in His mercy and grace. 
Man, shouldst thou never before have been able to 
pray to God from the depths of thy heart, except in 



LOVE Al^D FEAR GF GOD, 1 33 

the midst of sorrow and tribulation, thou wilt, when 
thou knowest God, learn to pray from love, and with 
sweet tears of joy ; and the more thy love developes 
itself, the deeper will be thy knowledge of God. 

Yes, we must love God in order to know Him, in 
as far as poor mortals, born in the dust of this earth, 
can learn to know the infinite and most exalted Being, 
whose greatness and perfection far surpass our powers 
of comprehension. Even men can only be truly 
known to us when we love them, and we never learn 
thoroughly to understand those who are indifferent to 
us. For when we love we give redoubled attention 
to all that the beloved object says and does ; v/e take 
far more pains to penetrate into his thoughts, and to 
understand his views, and v/e endeavour to draw con- 
clusions as to his meaning and his wishes, from trifling 
observations and matters which we should hardly 
notice in others. The same is the case with the 
soul, in regard to its heavenly Maker. 

This true relation of man to God, that is to say, 
the soul's love of God, cannot indeed be manifested 
in the same way as man's love and friendship for 
man. And when attempts are erroneously made 
thus to express it, the result is either a barren play 
with earthly feelings, or mere dead and outward 
practices. 

The true love of the soul for God does not express 
itself in sentimental enthusiasm, in newlv-invented 
sweet and flattering names applied to God, in constant 
yearning for Him, and in a perpetual dwelling of the 
spirit on the glory of the Holy of Holies. Such a 
state of mind is not natural to man, and cannot^ 
therefore, be long sustained. Persons who, by some 



134 



LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD. 



Strange perversion of mind, are led to believe that 
love of God manifests itself in this way, generally 
end by falling into a state of dejection, in which 
they torment themselves with reproaches for not 
always having their thoughts rivetted on God, but 
having, on the contrary, given some of their attention 
to the things of this world also. They torm.ent them- 
selves without reason, because they are attempting 
to make the im^possible possible. At last, discon- 
tent with themselves drives them either into apathy 
or frivohty, or into self-destructive and barren fana- 
ticism. 

True love and fear of God do not either manifest 
themselves in fervent and frequent prayers, in anxious 
observation of all Church rules, by an outward look of 
demureness, by an assumption of sanctity that degene- 
rates into bigotry, and holds light all the joys of life, 
or by a puritanical contempt of the world, which 
but too often borders on hypocrisy. Verily, the 
love which God expects from us is not to be evinced 
in a constant repetition of the exclamation, '' Lord, 
Lord ! " or, " Abba ! dear Father ! " The love 
which the Creator demands of His children is not 
that we should disdain the pleasures of life v/hich 
He bestows upon us v/ith such bountiful hand, but 
that v/e should do the v/ill of our Father who is 
in Heaven. 

The will of the Eternal Father is that we should 
have confidence in Him, confidence in His provi- 
dence, in His clemency and fatherly kindness — conii- 
. dencc that even our bitterest sufFerings come from 
Him, and are for the good of cur souls. 

Not with the earthly feelings, with v/hich we love 



LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD. 135 

our fellow-men, can we love the infinite God in His 
greatness, but only v/ith deep reverence and trusting 
submission to His will. 

The love of our soul for God is, hov/ever, most 
clearlv revealed in endeavours to becomie like unto 
Him, and to assimilate itself to His love for us, that is 
to say, in endeavours to look upon all men as our 
brothers, to love them as such, and to contribute to 
their contentment, their well-being, and their peace, as 
much as in us lies. 

For "if a man say, I love God, and hateth his 
brother, he is a Har 3 for he that loveth not his 
brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God 
whom he hath not seen ? And this commandment 
have we from Him, that he who loveth God love his 
brother also." 

Here, then, we have the secret revealed to us as to 
wherein consists the true love of man to God, and as 
to how it is to manifest itself. This is the relation in 
which my soul, Vv^hile here on earth, is to stand to its 
Maker. Ah, hov/ often have I not misunderstood this 

love how often forgotten it ! "Woe is me, for the 

love of God has not always dv/elt in me, and I have 
been afraid of God ; but so long as I dv/elt in fear, I 
dwelt not in God. 

Hov/ often have I not deluded myself when I 
have looked upon myself as a child of God, and 
yet harboured in my heart envy towards those who 
were considered better than I ; when I repelled with 
proud unforglvingness a fellow-man, who had perhaps 
wounded my feelings by some act which v/as, after 
all, but the consequence of my own conduct ! How 
often has my heart ventured to pray to God, while 



136 LOVE AND FEAR OF GOD, 

filled with hatred to His creatures ! Can we believe 
that a child who does not long to be like his excellent 
father, really, sincerely loves that father ? 

Forgive, oh, forgive me, Father in heaven ! I will 
turn to Thee again with new and true love. I will 
re-establish the blessed relation of my soul to Thee, 
which Jesus Christ has taugjit me is the rig'n one. 
Yes, O Heavenly Father, I will love Th.^e, not 
in words, but in deeds ; for not in words, but in 
works, hath Thy love for us all been most gloriously 
manifested. 

O my fellow-men, relatives, fjllow-ciiizens, friends, 
acquaintances, all who meet me on my pilgrimage 
through life, I will love God the Father in you His 
children; I will love the Creator in His creatures. I 
will cease to hate you. Calm peace takes possession 
of my heart. And should you misjudge me and hate 
me (alas, your doing so is but a natural consequence 
and punishment of my many faults and errors), should 
you even persecute me, be it so. But I will acknow- 
ledge no foe upon earth ; I will not hate you. I 
will seek to protect myself against your anger, for 
God bids me do this. But while thus protecting 
myself, I will sue anew for your friendship and esteem. 
You will not deny it to me when you learn to know 
how full of love to each of you is my heart, and how 
willingly I would assist all with deed and counsel, as 
far as my limited means will allow. 

O my God and Father, keep me in love of Thee f 
Let me never waver therein ! Let me dv/ell in Thee 
now and for ever ! Amen ! 



RELIGIOUS DEVOTION. 

When, in some solemn silent hour, 

I stand before my Maker's face, 
And urged by deep devotion's power, 

In prayer I seek the throne of grace, 
What joy, what heavenly peace I feel, 
Sent from Thy presence, o'er me steal. 

How trifling seems each transient pleasure 
Of earth, with all its pomp and show 5 

Which men still covet as their treasure, 
And to their idol, slave-like, bow. 

What bliss so pure — what joy so fair, 

As to be one with God in prayer r 

Then on devotion's wing I'll soar. 

Till unto Thee, my God, I rise ; 
Creation's wondrous work explore, 

And understand thy mysteries — 
To praise and worship Thee aright, 
Uplif:s man to the angels' height. 

(Matt. xv. 8.) 

The Pharisees and Interpreters of the Mosaic Law 
in Jerusalem gathered one day around the Messiah, 
and importuned Him with questions meant to be em- 
barrassing to Him and to His disciples. For the 
latter, as well as their divine Guide, at times neglected 
many little observances, which the laws of Moses 
enjoin on various occasions, as for instance the 
washing of hands before touching bread that was to 
be eaten. 

Christ addressed them with the convincing power 
which His words ever possessed. He made it clear 



138 RELIGIO US DEVO TJON. 

to them that they did indeed observe with admirable 
strictness even the smallest outward act of the law, 
that they performed every sacrifice- and every puri- 
fication, and pronounced every prayer, yet that they 
were without religion, and far from the spirit of the 
Mosaic doctrine. He convinced them, of this by un- 
answerable examples, and He added, that they were 
without religion, because they were v/ithout devotion. 
^^ Ye hypocrites ! " He cried, " well did Esaias pro- 
phecy of you saying. This people draweth nigh unto 
Me with their mouth, and honoureth Me with their 
lips ; but their heart is far from Me." (Matt. xv. 

7,8.) _ 

Religion is the sacred relation in v/hich man stands 
to God. But a mere recognition of this relation does 
not constitute religion, nor either does the mere 
observance of certain outward signs of reverence for 
the Highest Being constitute religion ; but, God being 
a Spirit, the reverence for the All-Holy must pene- 
trate the spirit of man, and in his meditations, in his 
prayers, and when he is performing acts of piety, he 
must rise above all that is earthly to the Spirit of 
spirits. This uplifting of the spirit to God, this 
merging, as it were, of the spirit in God, is devotion. 
Without this devotion it is impossible to be truly 
religious, and all religion, all belief, all knowledge, all 
worship, all prayer, all good acts are in vain, and 
merely a dead show. 

Jesus knew the human heart in its depths and in its 
weaknesses. Therefore the words which He spake 
nearly two thousand years ago, are strikingly true 
even at this time ; and what He preached in the land 
of Genezareth is as fully recognized as truth, as if 



RELIGIOUS DEVOTION. 1 39 

what He said had been addressed to us here in our 
country on this very day. Observe the greater num- 
ber of Christians of the present time ! Listen to the 
interpreters of the Bible in the pulpits, how accu- 
rately they know the words of the Scriptures, how 
cleverly they expound the whole series of human 
duties, or the secrets of faith. But observe their 
inward life, and their outward activity. They con- 
sider that all is done when they have gone through 
the service i-^.nd preached their sermon, as thougli 
what they are and what they do, Vv^ere only a matter 
of official duty. They have the knowledge but 
not the spirit of religion. Listen to the people, how 
regularly they say grace before meals, how regularly 
they pray, morning and evening, in their homes and 
in church, beside the graves of the dead^ as at all 
established timies of edification. Observe hov/ regu- 
larly they repair to the temple of God, and take their 
seats therein \ but even there attending to precedence 
of rank, not enterino; like children the house of their 
father with a feeling of the equahty of all, but for- 
getting that before God there is no distinction of per- 
sons ! Observe how zealously they throng to com- 
munion, to mass, to baptism, to the sermon ; how 
they cast down their eyes and fold their hands ; hov/ 
strictly they observe the fasts at home, or read a 
chapter in the Bible ! But if you could penetrate 
into their innermost hearts, into their lives at home 
and in their various vocations, into the mancsuvres 
of their selfishness or their vanity, what would you 
behold ! They have fulfilled all the outward ob- 
servances of the law, of human ordinances and insti- 
tutions, but the divine commandm.ents they have not 



14.0 RELIGIOUS DEVOTION. 

fulfilled. They have the husk, but the kernel is 
dead ; they have the letter, but not the spirit. What- 
ever they be, and whatever they do, they have no 
devotion. Therefore, though they be religious, they 
are not godly. It is this people of which the Messiah 
spake, '^ They draw nigh unto Me with their mouths, 
and they honour Me with their lips ; but their heart is 
far from Me ! " 

It is true, many Christians have felt this, and have 
longed for a better state of things, and have therefore 
separated themselves from the great mass, and formed 
new congregations, and nev/ sects within the Christian 
church. But they have, in the greater number of 
cases, only fallen into opposite faults. Their virtues, 
their works of true godliness they did not increase, 
but only their hours of prayer ; the number of their 
devotional exercises was augmented, but not their 
devotion. Christ and His disciples did not separate 
themselves from the other worshippers of God 
whether they were better or worse, but prayed with 
the rest of the Jews in the temple and in the syna- 
gogue. It matters little in whose company we pray, 
or with what outward demonstrations, it is the spirit 
in which we pray that is important. Many prayers, 
with all the outward appearances of devotion ; having 
the name of God ever on the hps ; abstaining from 
all innocent pleasures out of reverence for the Omni- 
present ; the observance of outward strictness and 
demureness, while the heart is full of envy, or 
anger, or is moved by other evil passions — this is 
not devotion, but sanctimoniousness. Not the 
weapons and the war-song, but courage makes the 
true warrior. '' Not all they who say Lord ! Lord ! 



RELIGIOUS DEVOriON. 



141 



shall enter into the kingdom of Heaven." So spake 
Jesus. 

Still less in the spirit of Jesus Christ is the system 
of penances, which drives men away from their fellow 
men, in order thst they may devote themselves 
entirely to God ; which makes them dwell in deserts 
and solitary cells ; which leads them to neglect those 
duties to human society which the Son of God so 
earnestly enjoined ; which induces them to destroy 
by fearful castigations their bodies, which the divine 
Word teaches them they ought to look upon as a 
sanctuary and temple of God ; to enfeeble by fastings, 
by physical suffering, and by privations of all kinds, 
those mental and bodily powers, which the Heavenly 
Father bestowed upon them as the talent which they 
are to turn to the best account for the benefit of man- 
kind — as the light which they are not to put under a 
bushel. This is not religiosity or godliness, but the 
destruction thereof, for it is in opposition to the v/ill 
of God. It is not devotion, but fanaticism, not a 
livino; in the Lord, but self-destruction arisin'j; out of a 
most unhallowed misunderstanding of the words of 
Christ. They seized the letter of the word, and held 
fast by that, and thus lost the spirit. And the letter 
killeth, the spirit alone quickeneth. 

What then is devotion? The very term explains 
itself. It is a devoting of ourselves to that which we 
are doing ; a fixing of the entire attention of the mind 
on the occupation we are engaged in. In this general 
sense of the term, everything which we do with the 
whole power of our mind is performed wath devo- 
tion. 

The more important a thing is to us, the more 



1^2 RELIGIOUS DEVOTION. 

Strongly it rivets our attention. Now what can be 
more important to us than our true happiness, the 
position we hold in the universe, our relation to eter- 
nity ? What is there in the universe, and in all eter- 
nity, more exalted than God ? Therefore religiosity 
is impossible without devotion. Therefore devotion 
is the freeins; of the spirit from all distracting circum- 
stances, from all earthly trammels, and the uplifting 
of it to divine things ! As soon as these latter really 
become our object, they spontaneously sway our whole 
inward being. Therefore devotion is that solemm 
mood of the mind in which all worldly thoughts are 
forgotten. The highest degree of devotion is that 
silent rapture of the heart, which shone in the face of 
Jesus when at prayer, or in the face of Stephen when, 
filled with the Holy Ghost, he looked up to Heaven 
and beheld the Lord in His glory, while the people 
v/ere stoning hiin. (Acts vii. 55-59.) 

This devotion, as the experience of every man 
will tell him, cannot be produced by artificial means. 
You may appoint hours of prayer ; you m^ay let the 
beads of the rosary pass through your fingers ; you 
may fold your hands and uplift your eyes, or fall upon 
your knees or upon your faces : you may veil your 
face in prayer, or uncover your heads — but these 
postures will produce no devotion, though they may 
be a means of reminding you that you ought to feel 
devout, and may be an outward sign of the inward 
devotion, and as such fitted to keep off distracting 
thoughts. Devotion must work from within out- 
ward, from v/ithout you cannot force it into inward 
existence. 

Such outward observances as those just alluded to. 



RELIGIOUS DEVOTION, 1^3 

thouo-h they cannot generate true devotion or take the 
place of it, are not, however, in themselves repre- 
hensible, but, on the contrary, are much to be com- 
mended. Thev rem.ind all present, particularly in 
Iarg;e assemblies, that the people have come together 
to worship God ; they prevent, by their uniformity, 
all such little matters as are more hkely to distract 
the attention Vv^here many persons are gathered toge- 
ther than v/hen v/e are in solitude. Indeed, as 
according to our nature everything that im^presses 
our outward senses produces a great effect on our 
inward m.oods, it is not improbable that these out- 
ward observances, though they cannot av^aken devo- 
tion may nevertheless prepare the heart and make it 
receptive tor it. 

If it be undeniable that true devotion cannot be 
artificially produced from ^without, it is still more 
certain that it cannot be forced or avv^akened by 
comim.and. Therefore to say to any one, ^^ Be 
devout," when his heart is either incapable of, or 
disinclined to, this subhme mood, is foolish and vain. 
The com.plaint of many preachers as to the v/ant 
of devotion in their hearers, is most frequently the 
self-condemmation of the complaining teacher. For 
the complaint proves that they are themselves failing 
either in zeal and dihgence, or in the power, so 
essential in their vocation, of rousing and rivetting 
the attention of the congregation by the vivacity, 
iuciditv, dignity, and general attractiveness of their 
sermons, and of lifting up the mJnds of their hearers 
to the level of their subject. 

Devotion is a free utterance and action of the heart, 
as are love and esteem. It can as little be called 



14-4 RELIGIOUS DEVOriON. 

forth on command as love. You may command your 
children to be quiet, to fold their hands and look 
down, and to repeat prayers learnt by rote ; but 
what they feel, what occupies their thoughts at that 
moment, you cannot know, and you have no control 
over it. To awaken true devotion a very different 
kind of preparation is required. 

For this reason, the blind, though well-meant zeal 
of certain rulers who used to force their subjects to 
go to church, to take the sacrament regularly, to go 
to confession, and to fulfil other religious observances, 
under penalty of punishment, was certainly a great 
mistake. Such ordinances do not promote religion or 
godliness, but, on the contrary, hypocrisy, which is an 
abomination in the sight of the Lord. Forced service 
can never be a service of love. It is not empty 
words, or outward appearances of devotion that the 
Lord demands. The people who are content with 
these are the people of whom He saith, " It draweth 
nigh to Me with its mouth, and honoureth Me with 
its lips, but its heart is far from Me." 

No ; devotion can neither be forced nor artificially 
fostered ; it must arise spontaneously in the heart ; 
and it does arise spontaneously when the heart is full 
; of natural reverence and deep love for the Most 
High. In like manner, an inferior listens with reve- 
rential attention to a superior v/hom he truly respects ; 
in like manner, the subject looks up with deference to 
his prince, who, he knows, has the power to elevate 
him or to prostrate him in the dust ; in like manner, a 
child speaks with tenderness to its mother, because it 
clings to her with love and gratitude. Learn, then, to 
know the majesty of the Almighty God in His works ; 



RELIGIOUS DEVOriON, 1 45 

learn to trace His wisdom. His providence, FIIs mercy, 
in the events of thine ow^n life ; realize to thyself His 
infinite pouter and His infinite love ; picture Him to 
thyself as the Exalted One, in comparison w^ith whom 
all the suns of the heavens are but as atoms of dust, 
and the mightiest of the earth, clad in purple and gold, 
are but as poor creeping worms — as the Ruler of thy 
destiny, the Lord of life and of death, the Judge of 
the dead, the Eternal God — and a feeling of reve- 
rential awe will thrill through thee^ and the world of 
sense, with all its mere appearances, will vanish like a 
shadow. Thy spirit, awe-struck, yet full of courage, 
will lift itself up to the Creator, and anxiously, yet 
fiill of hope and love, thy soul will yearn towards 
the Father of souls, and thou wilt feel true devotion. 

Many persons having never felt true devotion^ 
hardly know what it is ! — others have known it only 
in some great crisis of their life, when fear and 
anguish have oppressed their hearts, and they could 
find no help, no refuge except in the Almighty! 
Others again on their death-bed pray for the first time 
with true devotion, when offering up the prayer which 
proves to be their last ; others when the thunders of 
the Lord of storms roll above the earth, and the forked 
lightning rends the heavens in twain ; others when 
they stand with bleeding hearts by the bedside of a 
dying father or mother, husband or wife, a beloved 
child or valued friend, and seek in vain to stay the 
fleeting life. On such occasions even the most frivol- 
ous minds realize to themselves the greatness, the 
power and the love of the Infinite God, and the 
nothingness of human things, and this is devotion. 

O parents, educators, public teachers and ex- 

L 



146 RELIGIOUS DEVOTION. 

pounders of the Gospel, teach the youth of the land, 
and teach also the rr^tn and women to acknowledge 
the exalted attributes of the Most High, the perfection, 
pov/er, and mercifulness of the All-Perfect One, and 
they will not lack reverence, and feelings of true 
devotion will arise spontaneously in their souls. Do 
not teach children first to repeat by rote prayers, 
v/hich in most cases they cannot understand, and 
then afterv/ards speak to them of the attributes of the 
Heavenly Father ; but first inspire both the young 
and the aged with reverence for the God of infinite 
glory and love, for the God of infinite goodness, and 
they will then begin to pray of themselves, without 
having learnt prayers by heart. And ye, O rulers 
and magistrates, improve the schools for the poor j 
improve public v/orship, by taking care that the clei-gy, 
the religious teachers of the people, be men of dig- 
nified character, of spotless conduct, of well-stored 
minds, and full of zeal : and religiosity will then 
bloom forth spontaneously among the people. Then 
there will be no w'ant of true devotion either in the 
public or the private prayers of the people, nor when 
they contemaplate nature, nor in the em.otions called 
forth by the spectacle of human events. For affec- 
tionate and reverential uplifting of our souls to God 
does not only take place in those communions with 
Him v/hich v/e term prayer, but v/henever an event in 
our lives or the performance of a duty points to God. 
Thus I m.ay feel devotion v/hile studying the marvels 
of creation, or hearing them described. So likewise 
the contemplation of my duties, and the examination 
of my own virtues and defects, and every new exten- 
sion of my knov/Iedge may fill me with feelings of 



RELIGIOUS DEVOTION, I47 

devotion. Thus the emotion with which I witness 
the sufierings or the happiness of good men, the 
punishmxent which vice inflicts on itself, and the sweet 
rewards which virtue prepares for itself, m^ay be akin 
to devotion. In like manner the perusal of pious 
works or the hearing of some religious discourse may 
raise the mind up into that higher mood. I may also 
feel truly devout v/hile giving alms, or when perform- 
ing my daily duties, be it in my household or in my 
office. Jesus has taught me to lave God devoutly, 
that is to say, with all my heart, and all my soul, and 
all my strength. For devotion excludes everythino- 
that is alien to its principal object. 

But for this very reason men cannot cultivate devo- 
tion, as it is called, at all hours of the day ; for the 
common avocations of public and domestic life have 
also a claim upon our attention. There are many 
things which v/e have to do for the preservation of 
our health, for the promotion of our domestic happi- 
ness, as also for the improvement of our business and 
of our miinds, v/hich cannot be attended to when our 
thoughts are distracted. It v/ould be foolish to 
demand that the soul should at those moments be in 
a state of exaltation, and it is hypocritical to assume, 
while attending to such matters, a canting tone, and a 
sanctified and solemn demureness of manner. Every- 
thing must hi-ave its time ; and to do each thino- in 
its right time, and the right at all times, is the funda- 
mental principle of Christianity. Rejoice v/ith the 
happy, weep with the sorrowful ! He who attempts 
to be all things at all times, is sure of doing all things 
by half only. 

But if thou desirest to occupy thyself at some fixed 

L 2 



148 RELIGIOUS DEVOriON. 

hour of the day with sacred matters, then let it be 
with that earnestness which is due to the most im- 
portant of our concerns on earth, and the wonderful 
efFect of this devotion on thy heart, the influence of 
that one solemn hour, or be it only minute, will not 
fail to make itself felt through all the other hours of 
worldly bustle. Just as in spring a gentle morning 
shower, or as in summer the morning dew, refreshes 
nature for the whole of the rest of the day, so an hour 
of devotion strengthens the heart of man for a long 
series of events, resolutions, and actions. Be what 
follows either joyful, or sorrowful, or terrible — the 
mind will ever maintain a lofty superiority over it. 
Nay, this elevated mood produced, will even make 
itself felt in the insignificant conversation with friends, 
and in the midst of sport and merriment. Devout 
occupation of the mind with divine things, is an up- 
lifting of it to the Most High. All earthly matters 
are then excluded, all low passions are silent. He 
who holds frequent communion with God, becomes 
thereby a more exalted and divine man. The sight 
of all that is defective and unjust will cause him un- 
easiness. The lofty mood will in a measure become 
habitual and prevalent in him. It will diiFuse a holi- 
ness through his mind, which will ennoble all his 
thoughts, feelings, and utterances. Whatever he ob- 
serves, says, or desires, will be tinged with charity, 
gentleness, and kindness, will bear the impress of a 
noble spirit. For who can present himself before 
God in prayer or holy meditation, and then descend 
as it were from the foot of the throne of the Almighty, 
and give himself up to unworthy feelings or actions ? 
To the Christian, therefore, the whole of life in a 



RELIGIOUS DEVOTION, 



[49 



certain measure becomes one great act of devotion. 
Such was thy life, O Jesus Christ, Divine Man, 
Saviour of the world. Thy entire activity among the 
children of this earth was a holy uplifting of the purest 
of souls ; Thy thought of the Father of Spirits was a 
constant holy rapture — for who has known the Father 
as Thou didst ? Thy prayers wxre a true merging of 
7"hy spirit in God's. 

O my God, Lord of the universe. Invisible and 
Majestic Being, who compriseth in" Thyself all things, 
and who art still my Father — to draw nearer to Thee, 
to learn to know Thee ever better through the teach- 
ings of Jesus, and through the glorious marvels of 
Thy wondrous Creation, and to grow ever holier 
through means of my extended knowledge — to grow- 
more divine by unity of spirit with Thee, O my God 
— such is the yearning and striving of my soul, such 
is the object of my life — and to this I must ever 
remain faithful. How could I be otherwise ? The 
spectacle of Thy greatness fills the heavens and the 
earth with v/onder and reverence, the contemplation 
of thy love fills the infinite worlds with rapture. 
Seraphim, and cherubim kneel praying before Thee, 
and in devout prayer mortals come nearer to the 
angels and their acrs. O, that I could belong to those 
holy hosts, that I could glorify Thee worthily here on 
earth already. But may I not do so ? Yea, Thou 
hast given me the grace and the power so to do, 
though hereafter, when I am nearer to Thee, when 
1 myself have grown worthier, I shall do it more 
worthily still. Amen ! 



CHRISTIAN FAITH. 

Strengthen, for it oft will falter, 
My belief, O God ! in Thee ; 
Joyfully before Thine altar. 

Then shall rise my thanks to Thee. 
Let me not of Thee despair. 
Wearying Thy throne with prayer 5 
Sinks my faith, O Fount of light ! 
Make it glow more clear and bright. 

Should bewildering doubts awaken, 
Error tempt with dazzling glow : 
Thy disciple, true, unshaken, 
I will strive myself to show. 
Let thy ray again beam on me. 
Shower down Thy faith upon me j 
In unclouded light divine, 
Make the truth's pure splendour shine. %. 

To Thy word, and not the learning 

Of man's wisdom let me seek 5 
There Thy goodness. Lord, discerning, 
Let Thy voice within me speak. 
More than all beneath the skies 
Let me still Thy witness prize j 
All my future life be shown, 
Guided by thy truth alone. 

(John xii. 44-46.) 

Were I a stranger^ coming from some distant, soli- 
tary island in the ocean, whither the name or the doc- 
trines of Jesus had never penetrated, and were I 
suddenly to be introduced among the nations of the 
world, and to witness their different modes of wor- 
shipping the Deity, and to become acquainted v/ith 
their various religious beliefs ^ and I felt within me 



CHRISTIAN FAITH. I51 

the same deep yearning after the true faith, which as 
a child I used to feel after the Unknown, when I 
gazed at the wonders of nature, such as the starry 
heavens, or the majestic thunder-clouds which passed 
over the shuddering earth ; which faith should I 
embrace as the only true one ? Should I bow down 
with the heathen before their idols, or kneel with the 
Christians in their temples ? Should I honour, with 
the Jews, the strong and jealous Jehovah and the lav/s 
of Moses, with all their rules of Qutward discipline, 
or should I, v/ith the followers of Mahomet, hate and 
persecute with the sword all nations v/ho do not accept 
the tenets of their prophet? 

Whereby should I recognize the truth and divinity 
of the right faith ? For though the Christians boast 
of having a divine revelation, the Jews also believe 
that Moses received their laws on Mount Sinai, direct 
from the hand of God ; and Mahomet likewise, Vv hen 
preaching in the deserts of Arabia, announced his 
doctrine as coming from God ; whilst the heathens 
maintained that divine beings had come dovv^n on 
earth to man, in order to instruct him in heavenly 
things. 

Whereby then shall I recognize the correctness of 
these assertions, as each one thinks that he alone has 
the true religion, and none will fall away from his 
behef ; as heathens and Turks defend their faith with 
the sword ; as the Jev/s have preferred to endure 
every suffering heaped upon them by other nations, 
rather than give up the lav/s of Moses, and thousands 
of Christians have died as martyrs to the strength of 
their convictions ? 

I should say, that that faith only can be 



152 CHRISTIAN FAITH. 

TRULY DIVINE, WHICH MAKES MEN' MORE GOD- 
LIKE, WHICH ELEVATES THEM ABOVE THE THINGS 
OF THE EARTH, ABOVE THEIR OWN FATE, AND 

ABOVE THE TERRORS OF DEATH, and which proves 
thereby that man's free and independent spirit is of 
nobler nature than the soul of the animals, which 
knows no higher object than the satisfliction of phv- 
sical v/ants. For a faith that comes from God must 
have the power of making us like unto God, of raising 
us up from a lower to a higher state ; for God is 
infinitely exalted above man. 

Measured by such a standard, the religions of 
heathendom v/ould sink in my estimation into worth- 
less self-delusions. How could I v/ish to worship a 
God which I had myself cut out of v/ood or stone ? 
or the sun and stars which ever move in the self-same 
orbits, which hardly enjoy as much freedom as my- 
self; which only exercise an influence on the growrh 
and life of material things, and even on these produce 
their effects indirectly ? Hov/ could I worship ani- 
mals, which, however useful they may be to me, 
yet tremble when I threaten, and are guided by tht- 
strength of my understanding ? Can man be more 
■exalted than his God ? 

The true faith must make m.e more Godlike. 
For, ir by God 1 understand a being infinitely per- 
fect, pov/erful, wise, and good, I may expect that 
the faith revealed by Him. shall have power to 
make me also stronger, not physically, for in bodily 
strength the animals m^ay surpass me, but spiritually 
-stronger— strong to overcome all earthly things : 
hunger and thirst, and outward violence and inward 
passions. Not until my soul has attained such capa- 



CHRISTIAN FAITH. I53 

city can I recognize it as inspired with divine energy. 
I expect that the true faith shall make me wiser, that 
is to say, that I shall learn from it how to make my 
fellow-men happy, as God makes all created beings 
happy. I expect that by the true faith I shall become 
worthy of, and fitted for eternal existence. For 
though earthly excellence may pass away, spiritual 
excellence must endure for ever, because God Him- 
self is eternal. 

The faith which is truly God-inspired must be in 
accordance with all the claims of human reason and 
understanding, and must moreover solve satisfactorily 
all the dark mysteries which reason and understanding 
cannot penetrate. For how can I believe a faith to 
be truly divine if it be at variance with my reason ? 
or how can I call that a divinely-revealed truth, in 
which I discover a want of common sense, revolting 
to me even in purely human concerns ? 

All men are endowed with reason, and all are 
naturally gifted with the capacity of thought ; there- 
fore there are a number of truths which have at all 
times, in all climes, among all nations, and under all 
circumstances, been recognized as such -, therefore 
there are things regarding the truth of which mortals 
never can differ. But the mental powers of all men 
are not equally developed. Therefore, if a faith is 
to be recognized as divinely inspired, it must be in 
harmony as well with the reason of the most highly 
informed and acute men, as with that of io-norant 
persons unaccustomed to consecutive thinkinp-. Were 
this not so, then the rehgion bestowed by God on all 
mankind, would not be adapted to all, and would not 
be comprehensible to all, and could not approve itself 



1 54 CHRISTIAN FAITH. 

as truth to all. I should expect that a faith origi- 
nating in Heaven would be as easily understood by 
the unlearned as by the learned, by the child as by the 
old man, and that it would act equally beneficially on 
all hearts. 

Nay, as the human reason is bound within finite 
limits, and is therefore unable to comprehend super- 
mundane things, a divine faith must satisfy the claims 
of reason more fully than it can do so itself. It must 
explain to me why my spirit is gifted with such a 
wealth of rare qualities, of v/hich in this life it can 
make no satisfactory use, and by far the smialler 
number of which can here attain their true develop- 
ment 'y it must explain to mie my instinctive yearning 
for happiness through virtue, although I frequently 
see vice enjoying the most brilliant earthly position, 
while virtue pines in misery ; it must explain to miC 
why miy whole being aspires towards perfection, 
although I know that the hour of death must comxC 
which will put an end to all aspirations. It must 
show me why the All-wise has given me aspirations 
which seem doomed never to be satisfied, why He 
has endowed me with capabilities which seem des- 
tined never to attain to maturity ; why He has given 
me this thirst for a perfect happiness through virtue 
and wisdom, which yet appears to be utterly beyond 
my reach. 

I should say further, that that faith must be truly 
divine, which is in most perfect harmony with the 
eternal order of creation. - For all things that emanate 
from a Being of infinite perfection must be in perfect 
harmony with each other. If nature and revelation 
be both from God, they cannot be at variance with 



CHRISTIAN FAITH. 



155 



one another, nor be mutually destructive of each 
other, but must, on the contrary, confirm and 
support one another. A faith that should teach 
me to injure my body, to put a stop to the propa- 
gation of the human race, or to degrade m.yself to 
the level of the animals, and to deny my human 
dignity, would be in contradiction with the order 
of the divine creation, and could not therefore be 
from God. 

Finally, I should say, that faith must be truly divine 
the teachings of which would infallibly prom^ote the 
highest happiness of mankind v/ere they follov/ed by 
all men. For in the Deity I recognize the All-good 
Creator, who has called other beings into existence 
in order that they may participate in the highest bliss. 
Even man, had he the power of creating, would 
shrink from giving life to ^ther beings in order to 
plunge them into eternal misery and pain. How 
then can we suppose that God would do so ? I 
cannot call that religion divine which inspires man 
with enmity against his fellow-man. I cannot call 
that religion divine which m^akes it impossible for all 
men to live together in civil concord, so that universal 
contentment, well-being, and security may be esta- 
blished among them. I cannot call that religion 
divine which does not make all men equal before 
God, and does not teach that all have equal rights, 
but which, on the contrary, looks upon some as 
God's favourites, upon others as His step-children, 
and which acknowledges in some only a claim to 
His love, while to others it assigns the lot of being 
objects of His wrath. I cannot call such do'ctrines 
divine which I could not wish to see practised by all 



1 50 CHRISTIAN FAITH. 

mankind, because universal misery alone would be 
the consequence thereof. 

Such would be the signs by which I should distin- 
guish the true heaven-born faith from such religions 
as were invented by man. Its final object must be the 
infinite happiness of all spirits, the glorification of all 
things earthlv, the union of heaven and earth, of tim.e 
and eternity, of finite existence v/ith the infinite, and 
the absorption of all in the fullness of the Godhead. 

And were I a stranger, coming from a distant and 
lonely island in the ocean, whither the name or the 
words of Jesus had never penetrated, and I heard His 
doctrines and His revelations as to di\ine and human 
things — as to what is of this earth, and what belongs 
to eternity — verily, had I never before held commu- 
nion with any mortal on the subject, my first exclama- 
tion would be : " He came from God, and His voice 
is the voice of God, and the truths which He teaches 
are eternal like God, and in full harmony with the 
whole of God's creation ;" and though no one had as 
yet said to me, " Believe in Him, for His words give 
eternal life," I should exclaim, ^' He v/ho believeth in 
Him believeth rjjt in Him, but in the One v/ho hath 
sent Him.." 

His doctrine alone is truly divine; and had it never 
been confirmed by miracles, had it never been sealed 
with His blood, it would be in itself a miracle, a rising 
sun to every darkened soul, a bond between each 
human being and God, a Jacob's ladder bv which man 
may ascend towards the Deity. No man could have 
invented it. He who disclosed it must have surveyed 
with far-seeing eye the mysterious order of the entire 
creation and the laws that rule it, and have known the 



CHRISTIAN FAirn. 



^57 



power and the calling of the human spirit, as well as 
the strength of the human passions — the foundation 
of states as well as the conditions of peace in each 
individual human heart. He must have known the 
thoughts of the wisest of mortals, as well as the 
feeble powers of mind of little children, in order to 
make Himself so clearly understood by both ; and 
who could do this before Jesus appeared ? What 
the wisest and most learned of the ancients thought, 
and how they acted, is not a secret ; their opinions 
and their teachings are still extant in the books they 
wrote ; but whose wisdom comes near to that of 
Jesus ? Who ever embraced, as He did, in the most 
simple connexion, the most important concerns of 
humanity in all ages ? Who has, like Him, given, in 
a few words, the solution of all the enigmas of life ? — 
yea, given these in words th^ truth of which is at once 
apparent to the wisest and to the simplest mind — 
words such as these : God is our Father ; love is the 
sum and substance of all the commandments ; to be- 
come perfect as our Father in Heaven, is the great 
end of all spirits ; temporal existence and eternal 
existence are one and inseparable. 

The religion which Jesus has given us must be of 
divine origin, for I recognize the hand of God in its 
rise and in its propagation. Who was the Lawgiver 
of humanity ? Who the Saviour that rescued the 
world from darkness ? By what power did He esta- 
blish the sway of the faith which He taught over all 
minds ? Was He, like Moses, the chief and leader 
of a great people, whose least sign was obeyed by 
thousands, who were indebted to him for having taken 
them out of bondage ? Was He, like Mahomet, a 



1^8 CHRISTIAN FAITH. 

fortunate warrior, who had won the enthusiastic 
attachment of large hosts by his victories and his 
eloquent words, and who led his followers on to the 
overthrow of thrones and the conquest of nations ? 
Was He. the Pvuler of a great and powerful state, or 
the pupil of the most enlightened sages of His times ? 

No ! He came heralded by no claims to admira- 
tion, surrounded by no splendour, but humbly and 
meekly, and preaching abnegation of the v/orld. A 
manger was His cradle. Ofttimes He had no place 
where to lay His head. No one knows His teachers, 
yet He grevv^ in wisdom and understanding. Sim.ple, 
ignorant men, belonging to the lower classes of the 
people, were His first disciples. Even the people 
from which He descended, in the midst of which He 
lived, was at that time one of the most despised of 
the earth, and paid tribute to a foreign master. And 
this singular, this incomprehensible Being stirred in 
its depths the world of spirits, and the change which 
took place in mxen's m.inds transformed all the cir- 
cumstances under which the nations v/ere living : the 
altars and temples of heathendom fell to the ground, 
thrones crumbled av%^ay, and em.pires vanished from 
the earth. 

Whence did He derive this wonderful power of 
VvHsdom ? Had He devoted the whole of His Hfe 
to the acquirement of knowledge and the study of 
science ? Had He been gathering during a long 
series of years experiences as to human and Divine 
things ? Far from it ! He was a young m.an of 
nine-and-twenty years of age when He stepped 
forward from the obscurity of His previous life. 
(Luke iii. 23.) He was in the full vigour of His 



CHRISTIAN FAITH. I59 

manhood. And at that age, when other men are 
most strongly moved by passion, when the senses, 
the love of pleasure, the greed for money, and worldly 
ambition, in most cases hold sway over the spirit, He 
came forth in His majesty, like a Being from another 
world, victorious over every passion, carrying out 
to the full His ov/n principles, and no one was like 
unto Him. 

He refused the military leadership offered to Him. 
He refused the throne of David . vv^hich He was 
invited to ascend. He spoke of a higher kingdom 
v/hich He had come to found. At first He was 
understood by iqw y but He went His way, teaching 
and conquering, and foretelling the future fate of the 
v/orld, and of His doctrines, as though the books of 
Eternal destiny lay open before His eyes. And that 
v/hich He foretold, w^hich noi^e of His contemporaries 
could live lono; enou2;h to verify, the truth of which 
only posterity could witness, has been w^onderfully 
fulfilled in the course of ages, and of the com.plicated 
play of the world-events. 

What a long period of labour and teaching v/as 
not required to estabhsh such a kingdom of God on 
earth ! How m.any other doctrines have not been 
forgotten, which were taught for half a century or 
more, in the most populous cities of the woi^ld ! 
Hov/ many states v/hich it took long years to esta- 
bhsh have fallen into ruins in a fev/ months ! And 
Christ preached m.ostly in lonely places ; the entire 
period of His public teaching hardly extended over 
m.ore than three years ! He died as a young man, 
in the full blcom of a divinely great and perfect 
life ! 



1 6 CHRISTIAN FAHH. 

Was this man a mortal ? Verily in Him the Deity 
revealed Himself to mankind wonderfully, as in all 
His works. The Divine Son came from God, and 
God was with Him. 

How gladly would I learn more about this Incom- 
prehensible Being ! But all the earlier events of His 
life have remained unknown. The Evangelists, who 
wrote the history of Jesus, contented themselves with 
merely giving the world a narrative of His public 
career as a teacher. They did this in the most ad- 
mirably simple and artless style, without any attempt 
at embellishment, and without endeavouring to dazzle 
or attract. They wrote without consulting one another, 
and without the one having any knowledge of what 
the other was doing, whence many divergencies have 
arisen as to the general order of their narratives ; 
and yet they substantially agree on all points, so 
that the one may serve to elucidate and to' interpret 
the other. 

The faith of the Christian bears its Divine origin 
stamped upon it, and advances with majestic firmness 
between the two opposite errors of superstition and 
unbelief. In this faith my soul finds satisfaction, and 
every doubt its solution ; hi it I discover all that the 
human race most needs, and through it man finds 
grace before the Most Holy, and the consolation of 
forgiveness for his sins. 

It is true, I still behold schisms and differences in 
the Christian Church — and yet I confess : there is 
but one God, one Christ, one truth, and one Chris- 
tianity ! There are several Christian Churches, but 
only one Christian religion ; there are several dis- 
ciplines and many opinions, but one Christian faith only ! 



CHRISTIAN FAITH. l6l 

The simplicity and sublimity of the doctrines of 
Jesus were often found too high by presumptuous 
men, though the understanding of a child could com- 
prehend them. Men bound in the fetters of sense 
endeavoured to introduce improvemxents into them, 
which were alien to the woi'ds of Jesus. Jews and 
heathens who were converted took over with them 
into the new religion many of the notions connected 
with the old ^ they were too humanly weak to divest 
themselves at once of all the errors of their early 
education ; often, indeed, they misunderstood the 
doctrines, as we may see from St. Paul, who in his 
time already had to complain of the spirit of party 
prevaihng in the Christian church. Thus arose the 
various sects and ecclesiastical parties, and thus the 
differing religious opinions. But ought we to attri- 
bute to the Divine religion itself that which is but the 
fruit of human weakness ? '^ Nay, the Christian faith 
is simple and pure to-day as it v/as mxore than eighteen 
hundred years ago. We still possess the very words 
which Jesus spake, and the very words which His 
immediate disciples wrote. 

The differences of opinion that exist among the 
various Church parties and Christian brethren in faith, 
are but diff«.^rences of human views; and in so far 
they must change in the course of time which changes 
all things j no earthly pov/er can prevent this. But 
the teachings of Jesus remain unalterably the eternal 
Word of God. The pure religion of Christ remains 
a firm rock of God to all eternity, and to it the human 
race is firmly bound. Yea, as certain as it is that the 
laws of human reason are at all times and in all re- 
gions the same, so certain is it that with advancing 

M 



1 6 2 CHRISriAN FALTK 

civilization the Christian faith will become the religion 
of all denizens of the earth. At present, at the ex- 
piration of only two thousand years, it is the faith 
of the most civilized nations of the v/orld, and the 
tim.e must come v/hen there will be but one flock and 
one shepherd. 

Yea, ever dearer to me than all the treasures and 
legacies of this world, will be the faith, the divine 
inheritance, which my Saviour bequeathed to me. 
This faith lights up the darkness that formerly enve- 
loped the most sacred concerns of man ; through it 
I shall become more Godlike and be lifted up above 
human fears and sorrows ^ in it alone I shall find 
comfort and courage in the storms of Hfe, and peace 
and true happiness. It has reconciled me with death ; 
it invests with new charms the world beyond the 
grave. 

By this faith I will hold fast, however much men 
who are the slaves of their senses may scofF! Their 
mockery is a melancholy proof of their own degrada- 
tion. By this faith I will hold fast, though the sceptic 
in his pride may seek to undermine it. Ah, unhappy 
man ! he is at variance with himself, and having mis- 
applied the powers of his own mind, he seeks to 
comfort himself by robbing others of their comfort. 
Despairing of his own light, he would fain learn from 
others whom he has led astray, how to find the right 
path again, 

I will hold fast by this faith, O God, and by its 
blessed power, as I have received it into my heart 
through Thy Word spoken by Jesus ; I beheve in 
Thee, in the threefold way in which Thou hast been 
revealed, as Father and Creator, Almighty Wisdom 



CHRISTIAN FAITH. 1 63 

2nd Love ! I believe in Thee, DifFuser of happiness 
throughout the world, and in Thy Son Jesus, glorified 
above all Thy other children ; I beheve in Thee, All- 
animating and Holy Spirit, who consecrateth us to 
perfection like unto Thine ov/n ! I believe in thee, O 
mine own spirit, created for immortality, and in thy 
final attainment of perfection through the merits of 
Jesus. I believe in eternity, in which there will be 
retribution for all spirits, and in which dwell judgment 
and m.ercy. Amen. 



R! 2 



EVERY MAN HAS HIS PRICE. 

When the world's voice bewitches, 

I will her spells despise, 
Nor set my soul on riches. 

For wealth so swiftly fiies. 
As a true Christian knighr, 

When passions strong assail, 

ril combat, and prevail. 
Through God's own holy might. 

Shall I vain shadows follow, 

E'en to destruction's brink, 
And for some phantom hollow, 

Myself, my treasure, sink ? 
No ! That which i adore 

Is God-like — lifts from earth ; 

It makes me know my worth, 
And feel my value more. 

O God I hear Thou my prayer j 

V/hen pressed on either hand, 
Let not deception snare. 

Give me the strength to stand. 
Teach me a perfect faith, 

To know myself, to be 

Impregnable through Thee, 
Triumphant e'en till death. 

(Gen. xxxix. 9.) 

It is a curious trait in human nature, that each indi- 
vidual places the highest value on himself; treats the 
v^orld as if it v/ere only in existence on his account, 
looks upon himself as if he w^ere the central point 
round which all things turn — and that yet, in spite of 
this universal self-appreciation, so many persons make 
themselves the slaves of others, or of some insignifi- 



EVERT MAN HAS HIS PRICE. 1 65 

cant desire of their ov/n. This contradiction in the 
human mind, this inordinate pride of men in combi- 
nation with ignorance of their own true value, this 
insatiable self-seeking in connexion with so con- 
temptible a depreciation of themselves, is so common, 
that we are only astonished that thoughtful persons, 
perceiving it in others, are not thereby led to discover 
it in themselves ! 

Every man has his price, says the proverb. And 
how true is the saying — what knowledge does it not 
evince of the depths of the human heart ! Those 
who possess sufficient penetration, or sufficient know- 
ledge of human nature, soon discover in others what 
price they put upon themselves, and treat them accord- 
ingly. If it be a low one, the foolish men are made 
the instruments of the designing ones. 

Every human being puts a price upon himself. 
The proud and presumptuous smile and. say : "There 
may be poor v/eak creatures in the world who are 
willing to part with their life, their honour, their up- 
rightness, for a mere trifle : venal judges who allow 
themselves to be bribed ; self-indulgent voluptuaries 
who may be tempted by every new opportunity to 
forget innocence, good name, honesty, and all else ; 
but to me you m^ight offer millions of money, and all 
the pleasures in the world, and I should never be 
tempted thereby to com.mit a low or dishonourable 
act ! " Yet try to flatter them, and you will find they 
give way ; offer them honours, titles, a more com- 
manding position, and to secure to themselves these 
brilliant baits they will plunge entire countries into 
misery ; let them be placed in circumstances so 
desperate, that were their position to be known they 



1 66 EVERT MAN HAS HIS PRICE. 

would lose the esteem and honour in which they are 
held, and they rage like madmen, and become de- 
ceivers, robbers, assassins, and if they cannot even 
by these means conceal their shame, they end perhaps 
with suicide ! Ah, hov/ many countries, how many 
thousands of happy families, have been precipitated 
into miser}^, by the ambition of a kw selfish men ! 
How many have not sacrificed fortune, friendship, 
love, and even life, to save the honour of their nam^e 
or their house ! The price of these men is then some 
outward honour or dignity, the loss of v/hich they 
refuse to survive. 

" They acted foolishly, no doubt," cry others, " as 
does every one who burdens himself with cares and 
sorrows for the sake of the empty bubble, fame. Of 
vv^hat importance can it be whether people show us 
a little more or a little less outward respect ? Who 
does not know the world and the oscillations in its 
judgments of men ? The very person it idolizes to- 
day it scoffs at to-m.orrow. It bows its head to thee, 
but in its heart it despises thee. The more honours 
we attain, the more we have to suffer from envy and 
rivalry. Nay, for such a price I would not sacrifice 
the happiness and peace of my days or the principles 
that guide my actions, and still less my life." So speaks 
he who would perhaps give himself away for a much 
lower price. Invite him to your table, and he will 
caress you, though he may have had the most evident 
proofs of your ui^worthiness. Place good wine before 
the wine-bibber, and he will drink with delight until 
he is intoxicated, and then in his drunkenness divulge 
the secrets of his friends, or use without sham.e the 
most obscene language, and agree to any infamy that 



EVERT MAN HAS HIS PRICE. 1 67 

may be proposed. Let him but grow poor, and be 
unable to carry on the same luxurious, self-indulgent 
life as heretofore ; he will not be content with poorer 
fare, he will not learn to bear v/orthily the loss of his 
accustomed comforts, he will think death preferable 
to such a life of privation. Oh, how many a rich 
epicure would becom.e his own executioner were he 
suddenly to be impoverished, because he would con- 
sider it imipossible to live on the reduced means which 
would nevertheless be sufficient to support several 
frugal families ! The price of this mJean wretch is thus 
a certain number of full dishes, the juice of certain 
grapes, and a handsome house. 

" Yes ; but such mere sensualists belong to the 
most contemptible of mankind," cries another. " I 
would never degrade myself to the level of the 
animals, and live merely to tickle my palate. What 
to m.e is luxurious eating and feasting ? If my hunger 
is satisfied, that ought to be enough. And what are 
posts of honour to me ? We ought to be content if 
we have not to'com.plain of envy or contempt, and if 
we are allowed to live in peace, undisturbed by hatred 
or malice. Nay, to be ready to sacrifice friendship, 
love, peace of mind, and life, for such a price, proves 
that a man has fiillen into the very lowest depths of 
degradation."" Thus speak some. But what price 
do they put upon themselves, these very persons, 
endowed with such virtuous principles, and who are so 
prone to blame others ? Put out the gaming-tables, 
exhibit cards and dice in the light of the brilliant 
Justres ; gather together a party to tr}^ the sudden 
changes of luck — and gone is every vestige of noble 
pride ! The unfortunates rush to the tables. They 



1 68 EVERT MAN HAS HIS PRICE. 

who at other times may be full of feeling, become, 
hardened against the losses of others ; they who at 
other times are the very soul of honour in all their 
dealings, now, for the sake of gains of which they 
ouo;ht to be asham.ed, allow themselves to have 
recourse to all kinds of base tricks, as long as they 
can hope to avoid detection. These men, at other 
times the tenderest of husbands and fathers, when 
seized by this infernal passion, no longer think of wife 
or children, but gamble away all that the latter have to 
depend upon. The misery of wife and child touches 
ttem not ; the tears, the supplications, the warnings 
of friends and superiors, the contempt of inferiors,, 
all are in vain. They gamble on ; and when at last 
Fortune turns away her false face from them, 2nd, 
deprived of means, without one resource left, they find 
themselves mocked at and despised by those who are 
dividing their spoils, then despair drives them- into all 
kinds of villany. In order to be able to gamxble again 
and perhaps recover what they have lost, they make 
use of monev held in trust for others, thev deceive 
their superiors, they become forgers and perjurers, they 
sink deeper and deeper in crime, until at length the 
measure of their iniquity is full, and thev destroy their 
life with their own guilty hands. Alas ! how many 
a man who, by his other excellent qualities, might 
have been held high in esteem, has ruined himself and 
his family past redemption, through his unhappv pas- 
sion for gambling ! The price of such men is, there- 
fore, the passion for a pastime destructive both to 
mind and health — the passion for the excitement 
caused by the sudden changes of fortune experienced. 
when gambling with cards or dice. 



EVERT MAN HAS HIS PRICE. 1 69 

Every man has a price for which he gives himself 
av/ay. Therefore you also have your price. 
And what is the price at w^hich you value yourselves^ 
with your faith, your honesty, your innocence ? You 
seem struck with amazement. You doubt whether 
there be any price on earth for which you would give 
away yourselves — your peace in this world, and your 
salvation in the next. Have you, then, up to the 
present day, been so entirely proof against all tempta- 
tions, that you have yielded to none, not even to the 
most enticing ? Have you invariably turned av/ay 
with a shudder from the luring sin, when your honesty, 
your chastity, your peace of heart, your fidelity to 
right, were in danger, as did Joseph Vv^hen he v/as 
tempted and he cried, '' Hov/ then can I do this great 
wickedness, and sin against God ? " 

It is possible that the passion for gambling never 
touches you, but can you say the same as to vanity ? 
Or if vanity never leads you to comm.it acts derogatory 
to your true dignity, does dislike to others never 
tempt you into false steps ? Or if it be not hatred, 
is it pride ? And if not pride, are you never tempted 
by carnal lusts ? Or if not by these, by greed for 
riches an-d gain ? Or if not by covetousness, by fear 
of contempt ? Or if not by fear of contempt, yet by 
obstinacy, or even by malignant joy at the m.isfortunes 
of others ? Alas ! were I to recapitulate the long list 
of human weaknesses, you would perhaps be forced to 
admit that there are several prices at which you would 
sell yourselves. Blame not the warrior who stakes 
his life for small pay ! Blame not the mariner who 
exposes himself in a frail bark to the caprice of the 
wind and the waves, because he risks his life for 



1 70 EFERT MAN HAS HIS PRICE. 

trifling gain ! It is their business and their trade ; 
but thou, thou dost sacrifice for far more transient 
and worthless gains, honour, wellbeing, virtue, and 
domestic happiness. 

Every man has a price at v^hich he sells himself. 
What is thy price ? Hast thou ever v^eighed how 
much thou art really worth ? Go into thy chamber 
and devote some moments of earnest thought to an 
examination of thyself, and try to discover for what 
earthly good thou wouldst be likely to give thyself 
away. Look no further back than the past year ; 
pass in review thy secret thoughts and silent wishes 
even to the last few weeks only ! Ah ! a short while 
v/ill no doubt suffice to show thee thy weak points, 
which, had they been assailed by any tempter, would 
soon have revealed to thee at what price thou wouldst 
have sold thy goodness, thy Christian principles, 
thy heaven on earth, thy eternal prospects. - Thou 
shudderest ? Thou wouldst rather not look into thy- 
self ? But if thou valuest thy goodness, thy Christian 
principles, thy heaven on earth, thy eternal prospects, 
ah, shrink not from this self-investigation ! It is a 
great and decisive moment in thy life, when thou 
beholdest thine own deadly weaknesses and the dread- 
ful rocks which every moment threaten the safety of 
thy soul. Perhaps it depends upon this very moment, 
which forces self-knowledge upon thee, whether thou 
wilt ever give away thyself, and all that thou now 
boldest sacred, for a contemptible reward, for the 
satisfaction of some low desire, for some trifling con- 
sideration ; or whether, exercising noble self-control, 
thou wilt ever cling to God and possess thyself. 

Every man has his price at which he sells him- 



EVERT MAN HAS HIS PRICE. 1 7 1 

self. Dost thou know thine own price, thine own 
value ? 

Alas, O Omniscient God ! Abashed, I cast down 
my eyes before Thee. I am not worthy of the love 
and mercies Thou hast showered upon me from my 
early youth. How noble is the dignity with which 
Thou hast invested me, how paltry, how contemptible 
the value I have placed upon myself. I am Thy 
creature, O God, Thy child, O merciful Father, — 
and I render myself unv/orthy of Thy loving-kindness, 
for the sake of some low sensual enjoym.ent, some 
base pleasure. I am a hum.an being, I stand high 
in the graduated scale of all God-created beings ; high 
above myriads of other creatures, who have neither 
reason, nor knowledge, nor revelation, all of v/hich 
have been vouchsafed to m_e ; and yet, dishonouring 
myself, I forget and destroy my inherent human no- 
bility for the sake of thin^ which even the animals, 
naturally so inferior to me, do not value. In my 
hopes and my loves, in my sympathies and my an- 
tipathies, I but too frequently lov/er m.yself to the 
level of the brutes. 

I am born for immortality ! The portals of eter- 
nity have opened to me a prospect of bliss of which I 
cannot here belov/ form even an approximate concep- 
tion. A thousand other beings die daily at miy feet. 
They were, but are no more. But I, more exalted 
than they, enlightened by God, I am destined for im- 
mortality. And how have I deserved this preference, 
this exalted lot, above millions of other created 
beings ? Woe is me, I have already sold the nobi- 
lity of my soul for the vilest price, for the gratification 
of my sensual desires or my foolish fancies, or to con- 



172 EVERT MAN HAS HIS PRICE. 

form with some human prejudice. Ah, how often 
have I not sacrificed the peace of my life in order 
to gratify my angry feelings, miy vanity, or my lusts. 
I have sold my hopes of perfection, my claims of 
eternal happiness, for a handful of perishable dross. 
I have been bought and redeemed from death by the 
blood and sufferings of Jesus. He, the Divine Man, 
camie and showed me the way to the Father ; He 
sanctified my spirit by His teachings ; and on Gol- 
gotha He sealed with His blood the holy work of 
redemption. But w^oe js me, for when tempted I 
have thought but little of the lessons by which He 
endeavoured to purify me from sin ; and how rarely 
have I performed deeds of faith, though thoughtlessly 
professing with my lips the words of faith ! I have 
sacrificed myself and Jesus' work of redemption in 
order to satisfy a wish which a few^ minutes after I 
repented of How weak, how worthless have, I not 
often approved myself j I, a God-created, exalted 
being, destined for eternity, redeemed by Jesus ! 

I shudder at my own shortcomings. Why have I 
so often vielded ? Have I lacked warnin2:s and lessons ? 
Have I not been adm^onished by the words of Jesus, 
by parents and relatives, by solemn promxises de- 
manded of me, by serious events in life, all of v/hich 
have placed before me the dreadful consequences of 
wrong-doing ? Why have I so seldom exercised the 
self-control which ought to be the attribute of a being 
of such exalted destiny, and through which alone I 
can rise above the animals, who are guided by their 
passicns and their blind instincts ? What has been my 
reward for sacrificing my better self in this way? 
Alas! fleeting pleasure, and but too often enduring 



EVERT MAN HAS HIS PRICE. 173 

pain and bitter repentance ! Why are so many 
human beings inwardly discontented and unhappy ? 
Because they have sold themselves at a vile price, 
and are payhig the penalty of their folly. 

Blessed be the hour in which, by God's care and 
long-suffering, I have been led to look earnestly 
within and to recognize the vile price at which T have 
been in danger of giving myself away. I shall now 
spurn it when offered, and when again tempted in a 
manner that would lead to degradation, I will look 
up to Heaven, to my destination in eternity, and to 
Him who wrestled for me in Gethsemane, and say, 
" How then can I do this great wickedness, and sin 
against God ? " 

Dead ashes may be exchanged for dead ashes, and 
merchandize for merchandize; but the virtue of my 
spirit m.ust never be given .in exchange for the satis- 
faction of some ignoble, earthly desire; my constant 
inward contentm.ent must not be sacrinced to a 
momentary intoxication of the heart and the senses. 
" For what is a man profited if he shall gain the 
whole world and lose his own soul ? " (Matt. 
xvi. 26.) 

The truths taught by Jesus Christ, the Christian 
virtues, the approval of God, must not be given away 
for any price ; for what thing in the universe has anv 
value, if divine things be not above all price ? For 
these the Divine Man sacrificed Flis ov/n holy life, 
when the world of sinners condemned Him ; for these 
the holy Apostles of Jesus died amid dreadful suffer- 
ings ; for these the first Christians bore joyfully 
poverty, persecution, and shame, chains and tortures, 
and for these they calmly encountered death. There- 



174 



EVERT MAN HAS HIS PRICE, 



fore the names of these just ones shine forth, to this 
day, in the annals of men and in the records of 
Heaven. Their greatness of soul, their power of 
self-control and self-abnegation inspire us, to this 
day, with rapturous admiration. Yea, there is still 
something that is exalted above earthly power and 
dignities, above gold, and beauty, and fame, and ail 
that the senses rejoice in. There is still something 
that cannot be bought for all the bright things of this 
life which our secret desires may be vaunting to us, 
as the tempter vaunted the glory of the earth to the 
Saviour in the desert and on the mountain-top. And 
this is the image of God in a virtuous human spirit, 
whose eyes are lifted above the dust of this earthly 
existence, and are turned towards eternal things. 

But this image of God, alas ! how blurred and 
indistinct is it not in me ! Merciful Father, may I — 
sinful as I am — may I look up to Thee ? May I stili 
pray to Thee ? I shudder at my own unworthiness. 
God, my God, I would fain pray to Thee ! Be 
merciful to me, poor sinner ! Amen, 



PATIENCE AND GENTLENESS SUBDUE 
ALL HEARTS. 

Yes, Father, yes, It shall be granted me, 

O'er all my foes to gain the victory. 

Not strong in pride, will I their faults reprove, 

But win by love. 

Humble, like Christ — still ready to up-bear 
The poor and weak, the braised reed to spare, 
With tender hand to raise up those that fall, 
Forgiving all. 

Ever in haste to put mistrust to flight. 

To bind shall be my work, not disunite ; 

To calm with soothing touch the festering smart 

Of the sick heart. 

So shall I dwell in holy peace divine, 
Sparing men's frailties, they shall pity mine. 
So shall I too, upheld, O Lord, through Thee 
Forgiven be. 

(i Peter ii. 23.) 

Every age, every rank, and even each sex has some 
passion or fault peculiar to itself. But the desire to be 
the foremost everywhere, to possess advantages that 
others do not possess, and to rule over others, is 
common to all. Few persons will be found who are 
entirely exempt from this longing for pre-eminence, 
whence springs in some cases a craving for fame, in 
others for riches, in others for beauty, or for know- 
ledge ; in somic instances a contempt of danger, in 
others a contempt for virtue itself; on one side self- 
sacrifice, on the other gross selfishness. We are 



176 PATIENCE AND GENTLENESS 

almost tempted to say that most of men's virtues and 
vices spring from the same root. 

This craving for distinction, honours, and rank, 
vi^hich dwells as much in the young as in the old, is in 
fact nothing but a perversion of the natural desire to 
give expression to the yearning for development and 
perfection v/hich is inborn in all. This yearning after 
perfection was implanted in us by God. It is this 
v^hich keeps all our other desires and feelings in 
activity. It is this that has tamed the savage man, 
has polished the rude, has enriched the poor, has m^ade 
the indolent active, has taught the ignorant knov^ledge, 
has inspired the timid with courage. It is this alone 
that makes the highest virtue possible, 

I say, it was God that im.planted in us this yearning 
after excellence ; because there is no man on earth in 
whose bosom it does not dw^ell, and without it we 
should be morally dead, indifferent to good and evil. 
Christ Himself appealed to this desire for high per- 
fection, and m.ade it one of the fundamental pillars of 
His edifice of faith. 

However, when this inborn aspiration degenerates, 
it no longer seeks the wished-for pre-eminence in the 
highest cultivation of the spirit ; not in that which, 
because of its immortal nature, is alone capable of 
perfection — but in outward, earthly things, which do 
not depend upon ourselves, and the transient nature of 
which in itself renders them incapable of developing 
into true excellence. Thus perverted, the craving 
for pre-emJnence leads to the m.ost injurious con- 
sequences. It is ever present in men's minds,, and 
yet can never satisfy them. ; it drives them passionately 
through life, in search of a haven of rest which is 



SUBDUE ALL HEARTS. 1 77 

never found ; and the highest good which it places 
within their grasp, after pain and trouble unspeakable, 
is soon found to be but a fleeting shadow, that 
vanishes while they try to hold it fast. Beauty 
fades as years accumulate ; large fortunes melt away 
through various mischances ; high posts are lost with 
the favour of princes ; fame is diminished by Qrwy ; 
thrones are upset by rivals ; and all are blotted out 
by the cold hand of death. Vv^ithout one treasure, 
without one pre-eminent virtue, the immortal spirit, 
forgotten and neglected in life, stands then poor and 
denuded. 

But in addition to its evil effects as to each indi- 
vidual soul, this perverted craving for pre-eminence, 
like every other deviation of m_an from the path v/hich 
nature, reason, and faith indicate, fills the world with 
misery beyond expression. It is this which destroys 
empires, which holds nations in thraldom, which ruins 
and disperses families. Disunion, pride, luxurious- 
ness, vanity, malicious envy, poisonous slander, joy 
at the misfortunes of others, avarice, deception, 
hypocrisy, raging anger — alas, v/ho can enumerate 
the manifold vices which follow in the wake of false 
ambition and the craving for worldly distinction ! 

And yet, if we look around us, we find this craving 
everywhere prevalent. If we lay our hands on our 
hearts, we feel it stirring there also. Thence the 
want of harmony on all sides ; thence so much dis- 
union and contention. Thence the proud and angry 
feelings that av/aken in us when we are contradicted, 
or believe our worth to be in the least under-estimated 
by others. Thence the absence of gentle submission, 
of consideration for our neighbours, of honest respect 

N 



178 PATIENCE AND GENTLENESS 

for their good qualities, and thence the rarity of true 
friendship. 

Let us examine our own hearts ; let us ask our- 
selves whether our self-will, our obstinacy and our 
unyielding disposition, does not often cause us to 
disturb the domestic peace, to rend the ties of friend- 
ship, to call forth discontent and enmity in others, 
because we are intent upon establishing our supe- 
riority, our liberty of thought and action, our opinions, 
as against those of others ? And yet we cannot bear 
to see others conduct themselves in the same way 
towards us. What we do or desire, we call right ; 
what others do or demand, we call presum.ption, love 
of domineering, inordinate self-esteem, and obstinacy. 

How then canst thou be surprised that the world 
shows thee so little love and respect, that so few 
persons are truly devoted to thee ? Is it not thyself 
who has mistaken the way to their hearts ? ' Is it not 
thyself that in thine error hast forced them to hate 
thee instead of loving thee ? If thou wouldst govern, 
learn first how to do so. By violent means thou 
canst only create slaves who will curse thee ; by 
craft thou canst for a short while deceive the short- 
sighted, but they will soon unmask thee, and the 
tyrant is despised, the wily deceiver is looked upon 
with disgust. 

If thou wouldst govern men, teach thy tongue 
to be modestly silent, and let thy acts speak. That 
which in reality deserves reverence will receive it, 
even from the greatest villain, and that which is 
really amiable has never yet awakened a feeling of 
dislike. Now ask thyself w^hether the conduct of 
others towards thee entitles thee to suppose that 



{ 



SUBDUE ALL HEARTS. IJg 

thou possessest virtues which call forth reverence 
and love ? Many persons no doubt possess nume- 
rous good qualities, and every man probably possesses 
at least one virtue, but vs^ith this perhaps also some 
fault so offensive that it dims and outv^eighs all the 
good that is in him. Dost thou imagine that thou 
canst enforce the same esteem for thy faults as for 
thy merits ? If so, thou art mistaken. The judg- 
ment of men concerning thee, v^ill ever remain free. 
Witnesses may be suborned, not so hearts. Limbs 
may be fettered, not so minds. Whatever is bad will 
always be called bad, and whatever is good and noble 
will be called good and noble. 

Therefore complain not of other men's hearts, but 
of thine own faults, which arouse the hostility of those 
with whom thou art to live, instead of attracting their 
love. Avoid in regard to others that which thou 
findest blameworthy in their conduct towards thee. 
Learn to bear their faults v/ith patience, and be gentle 
and courteous in thy demeanour to every one. This 
is an unfailing means of subduing all hearts. Follow 
the Divine example of Jesus Christ, '' Who^ when 
He was reviled, reviled not again ; when He suffered, 
He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him 
that judgeth righteously." (i Peter ii. 23.) 

Perhaps thy pride, or, as thou wouldst call it, thy 
self-respect, revolts at this advice — " I cannot act 
thus," thou sayest, " it is not given to me to do so. 
Why should I be silent when I am right ? Why 
should I tamely submit when I am insulted ? Why 
should I not show my indignation when I see wrong 
done?" 

In speaking thus, O friend, thou betrayest the 

N 2 



l8o PATIENCE AND GENTLENESS 

poverty of thy heart, as regards all truly great qua- 
lities. If thou didst indeed stand higher than thy 
fellow-men, their contradictions, their errors, their 
perversity would not stir thine ire, and their insults 
would only make thee smile. The mighty lion walks 
on calmly and undisturbed by the little dog who barks 
at him. If thou hast never experienced this noble 
feeling of superiority, thou wilt hardly be able to 
understand me. If thou knowest it, then vv^hy dost 
thou not strive always to retain it ? 

Thou art not to be silent when thou art in the 
right ; thou art to speak, but with gentleness. Thou 
art not to nod assent when thou seest injustice 
committed; thou must try and see justice done, 
but gently. Thou art not to smile with contentment 
when any one insults thee ; thou must stand up for 
thyself, but with gentleness. Noisy anger, unbend- 
ing self-will, obstinate insistance on rights, and a love 
of contradiction, will only call forth anger and resist- 
ance in others, and thou v/ilt add wrong on thine ov/n 
side to wrong on theirs. 

Perhaps thou sayest to thyself: " It is very well to 
recomm.end this, but it is impossible always to be 
moderate. It is not given to every one to be able to 
master and restrain himself v»^ hen burning with indio-- 
nation." But to this I reply : What man wills to do, 
he has the power to do, and v/hen he really wills it he 
can restrain himself. Thou, also, art able to restrain 
thyself when thou art in the presence of persons 
whose position inspires thee with respect. It is, 
therefore, to the weak only, O coward, that thou 
showest thy courage, or to those v/hom thou mayest 
defy without danger to thyself; in the presence of 



SUBDUE ALL HEARTS. l8l 

higher and mightier persons it is fear, not anger, that 
rules thee. 

Attempt not to excuse thyself; thine own con- 
science accuses thee of falsehood. Thou also canst, 
if thou wilt, but thou wilt not, because by showing' 
thy anger, by threats and stinging words, thou hopest 
to make others submissive and slavishly obedient. 
This is thy real aim, — why, therefore, dost thou 
complain that in the hearts of other men thou iindest 
no faithful attachment, no tender love, no true 
esteem r The fault is not in th'e others but in thy- 
self. Who would expect to purchase loving embraces 
with sword cuts ? Who can expect to win affection 
by hard and bitter words r 

Patience and gentleness alone subdue all hearts. 
They pacify the angry, disarm the most violent, and 
lure on love and admiiration. One man is generally, 
without specially Vvnlling st> to be, the echo of another. 
Love is met with love, pride with pride, anger with 
aneer. Why then dost thou bewail the dissensions 
in life, the contentions in thy home ? Give first to 
others what thou askest of them, and they will return 
it to thee. Gentleness calls forth gentleness, impetu- 
dosity provokes contradiction. 

Patience and gentleness subdue all hearts. Patience 
-with the faults of others springs from the conscious- 
ness of our own value, and of how much we are 
exalted above all petty insults. A man of worth can- 
not possibly be hurt by the presumption of a m.an of 
no worth, nor a noble mind by a fool's pride in his 
prejudice ; nor a person rich in virtues by the abuse of 
ihe vulgar-minded, nor a strong man by the blow of a 
child's hand. 



1 82 PATIENCE AND GENTLENESS 

Gentleness springs from the love and respect which 
we owe to all men as such, and which we have a right 
to expect from them in return. Gentleness is always 
the distinguishing mark of superior wisdom and su- 
perior virtue ; it is one of the loveliest blossoms of 
magnanimity of soul. The more abject and degraded 
a man is, the more he will be given to cursing, swear- 
ing, quarrelling, and abusing. 

God cannot know anger, nor can the true sage 
who is Godlike in mind. In the capacity of parent, or 
superior, he may express disapproval of what is wrong, 
but he w^ill set matters right again without violence ; 
when the duties of his ofnce demand it he will punish 
faults, but with the loving intention of improving the 
criminal; when his own rights are attacked he will 
defend them, but without violence or asperity ; and 
when injustice is done to him which he cannot pre- 
vent, he will prove how little ha has deserved such 
treatment, but he will not seek revenge, or return 
like for like. 

Patience and gentleness can alone subdue the hearts 
of men. But this gentleness is in no way allied to 
that pride which looks down with disdain on every 
opponent ; such pride is the result of silent wrath^ 
not of the feeling of our own true value, which is 
ever veiled in modesty. The pride to which I have 
alluded is the silent, yet cunningly-calculated language 
of anger, which seeks a bitterer revenge than can be 
expressed by hard and taunting words. The restraint 
which anger thus puts upon itself is not gentleness, 
but premeditated cruelty ; not love, but hatred. 

True gentleness is tranquil friendliness, mild earnest- 
ness, v/hich involuntarily inspires or commands a 



SUBDUE ALL HEARTS. 1 83 

similar state of mind in others. It does not however 
consist in a set smile, which becomes mawkish in its 
unalterable sweetness, because it is no true index of 
cheerful tranquilUty of mind, but only a grimace and a 
mask. A person who smiles on every occasion and 
at everything, either proves himself to be deficient in 
mind and culture, or in heart and true feeling. He 
smiles even when he harbours malice ; he smiles even 
when contempt is heaped upon him. He is devoid 
of delicacy of feeling, both as regards himself and as 
regards others. 

The gentleness of the Christian, on the contrary, 
is founded on true and deep feeling. A wise man is 
not indifferent to the love and respect of others ; and 
therefore he treats an angry person with such consider- 
ation as seems due to one, who, being intoxicated, 
is not in full possession of his reason. He shows that 
he is not indifferent to beihg misjudged, and therefore 
endeavours to calm down the person who misunder- 
stands him, and to bring him into a state of mind that 
will render it more easy to form a dispassionate judg- 
ment. It is in consequence of the wise man's correct 
feeling of his own value, that when he has committed 
a fault,. he willingly confesses his error. This frank- 
ness disarms his opponents and diminishes honourably 
the offence, which would only be increased by denial, 
or m^ust awaken doubts as to the goodness of heart 
of the person who v/ould defend it as a righteous 
act. 

Gentleness, when coupled with proper feeling, 
wins all hearts; for, in such case, it indulgently 
excuses every thoughtless act of a fellow-man, and 
bears patiently with his weaknesses and peculiarities 



I 



184 PATIENCE AND GENTLENESS 

without burning incense before them. For flattery 
and fawning are as far from being gentleness, as 
hypocrisy is from being virtue. The wise man de- 
sires only to promote peace, and mutual esteem, 
toleration and consideration, from which alone do- 
mestic and public happiness can spring ; the flatterer 
proceeds craftily, leading men on for his own purposes, 
and turning their passions to his own advantage. The 
wise man places his dignity and his happiness in being 
able always to act with full self-possession, and free 
from the fetters of any strong passion. The flatterer, 
on the contrary, tries to rob others of their self-pos- 
session and their freedom, by blinding them or lulling 
them to sleep with deserved or undeserved praise. 
Gentleness is a constant mood of the mind in the true 
Christian ; flattery is a temporary expedient, which 
ceases when circumstances alter. 

A man ought to unite with gentleness, dignity^ a 
woman, kindly grace. He wins by the influence of 
his calmness and moderation on the understandings of 
those that surround him ; she, by the effect of her 
amiability on those that approach her. 

A Christian bears even the direst calamities with 
dignity : he retains it even when bound in the fetters 
of the tyrant who persecutes him. Even while railed 
at, scorned, and jeered at by the base mob, he is im- 
posing in his majesty. Jesus bore with meekness 
and patience the insults which the raging multitude 
heaped upon Him; when He was reviled. He reviled 
not again ; and when He suffered. He threatened not. 
Amidst the gibes and jeers of the people He dragged 
His cross to the place of execution on the hill, but 
His dignity did not forsake Him even at that dread 



SUBDUE ALL HEARTS. 1 85 

moment. He bore the shame v/ith meekness and 
spake : ^' Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for Me, 
weep for yourselves and for your children!" And 
with such majesty did He encounter the most painful 
death, that even amidst the brutal multitude cries 
arose : '' Truly this man was the Son of God." 

Just as the dignity of man, which blends so har- 
moniously with his gentleness, is not an assum^ed and 
artificial manner, but is the spontaneous expression of 
the consciousness of his own strength and worth ; so 
is the kindly grace of wom.an, with which the meek- 
ness of the Christian blends so beautifully, an out- 
growth of her very nature ; for it is not the nature of 
woman to govern by strength and pugnacious de- 
fiance, but by sweetness and loving submission. Phy- 
sically of more delicate frame than man, she cannot 
command obedience and respect by the fear she in- 
spires, but only by her kinti and gracious manners and 
conduct. Anger disfigures a man, but it degrades a 
woman, and renders her repulsive and ridiculous. An 
angry man, if "his indignation be inspired by his feeling 
for innocence, right, and truth, as opposed to malice, 
may call forth respect; an angry woman desecrates 
the holiest of causes because she desecrates herself. 

Patience and gentleness subdue all hearts. Gen- 
tleness wrenches the dagger from the uplifted hand of 
the infuriated, and stays the curse which is about to 
drop from the lips of the wrathful. It extracts the 
, bitterness from envy, and makes the blush of sham.e 
rise to the face of the malignant slanderer. This 
virtue, one of the lovehest inculcated by Christianity, 
is a child of Heaven, which spreads around itself 
the peace of Heaven. Life becom.es sweeter in the 



1 86 PAriENCE AND GENTLENESS 

neighbourhood of a man who is always cheerful and 
temperate, and of vv^hom we knov/ that, although he 
disapproves of our faults, he v/ill not wound us with 
hard words; who is always willing to allow justice 
where it is due^and who, with amiable modesty, would 
rather suffer wrong v/hen no one else can be injured 
thereby, than obstinately insist on being right, and thus 
risk losing a heart that is attached to him. 

Gentleness subdues all hearts and also ennobles 
them. Not only vice is seductive, virtue is so likewise 
and in equal measure. Who can resist the charms of 
love and kindliness, and who would wish to meet them 
otherwise than with equal kindliness ? Who can in- 
sult a meek and gentle person without at once blushing 
at his ov/n vileness ? Who would give himself up 
to unrestrained passion when he has the happiness of 
beholding undisturbed equanimity of mind ever beam- 
ing on him from a cheerful, smiling countenance? 

Father in Heaven, Thou who art ever the same, 
ever indulgent, ever long-suffering, ever loving ! How 
often have I not forgotten the surest, most innocent, 
most worthy means of establishing happiness in my 
family, and of diffusing it through all my other social 
relations. Have I not been the one chiefly to blame 
when friends have cooled towards me ; when oppo- 
nents have become more incensed against m.e ; when 
enemies have grown more irreconcilable in their 
hatred ; when good people have lost their esteem foi 
me ? Have I not been the first to err when my ill- 
temper has called forth the ill-temper of others ; when 
my love of contradiction has stimulated contradiction 
in others? Have I not by my harshness towards 
friends, and also tov/ards those with whom I am 



SUBDUE ALL HEARrS, 187 

only slightly acquainted, drawn down upon myself the 
harsh judgments of others, and have I any right to 
claim indulgence when I am so often wanting in it 
even to those I love best ? Have I not myself poured 
into the hearts of others the gall which is so bitter to 
my taste in their conduct towards me ? 

Lustrous exemplar of my mental life, O Jesus 
Christ, meek friend of man ! Divinely-patient sufferer! 
May not I come near to Thee in these virtues also ? 
Yea, the peace and happiness of my life depend upon 
the presence of that loveable ^tate of mind which 
Thou didst manifest so gloriously in Thy life. 
" Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the 
earth." " Blessed are the peacem.akers, for they 
shall be called the children of God." 



LEARN TO RESPECT THOSE WHO 
ARE INFERIOR TO THEE. 

Let not the man by God more blest, 
Regard with scorn the care-opprest, 
Who, poor and fainting 'neath their load, 
Tread wearily life's thorny road. 

Nor let him dream, tho' great and free, 
And rich in joy his lot may be, 
That raised o'er right, and duty's call, 
He shall not give account of all. 

Hath he more time, more wealth or lore, 
So let him serve mankind the more ; 
He highest, most like Christ is found, 
Who spreads most happiness around. 

Unenvying his well-earned height. 
The poor rejoices in his might, 
Who strives, unconscious of his own. 
To make his neighbour's virtues known. 

(SiRACH xi. 2-6.) 

Just as distinct as are ambition and the craving for 
notoriety from the true desire for perfection, just as 
distinct are pride and presumption from the simple 
consciousness of our own good qualities. 

The aim of the ambitious is to be distinguished 
above others, but they are indifterent as to whether 
it be by the public recognition of true merit, or 
through mere good luck and the favour of the great 
and powerful. Those w^ho are possessed by the love 
of notoriety, thirst for the pleasure of being know/t, 



RESPECT THOSE J^UO ARE INFERIOR TO THEE. 189 

spoken of, and admired by the multitude, without 
being very particular as to whether the qualities in 
themselves which attract notice be such as work for 
the weal or the woe of mankind. The yearning after 
greatness of soul and spiritual perfection is felt by the 
truly wise and virtuous, by the real Christian only, 
and springs from the consciousness of what we ought 
to be, in order to fulfil our hig-h destiny. Ambition 
and love of notoriety work for an earthly guerdon, 
and even when they achieve great and useful things, 
they have their reward in their success. ^^ They have 
their reward." (Matt. vi. 2.) But the noble yearn- 
ing of the soul for inward perfection and elevation 
can find no satisfaction in or through earthly things. 
It aspires towards the highest, the most Divine aim : 
towards likeness to God. Therefore, it can accom- 
plish the greatest and most useful things without a 
thought as to whether men will notice and honour 
the agent. It can perform the most meritorious acts 
without any view to the admiration of contemporaries 
or of posterity. 

Pride is a loftiness of demeanour and an over- 
bearingness of feeling assumed in consequence of the 
possession of certain advantages not participated in by 
others ; presumption is an exulting in a fancied supe- 
riority over others, or a boastful display of qualities 
to which undue value is attributed. But the self- 
esteem springing from the simple consciousness of 
our inward worth is the tribute which virtue pays to 
itself, it is the quiet cheerfulness of a good conscience, 
which shuns the contact of everything ignoble or im- 
pure. Pride and presumption m.anifest themselves in 
contempt or depreciation of others, true self-esteem in 



igo 



LEARN TO RESPECT THOSE WHO 



firm adherence to what is best in ourselves, in modest 
recognition of our own failings, and in joyful acknow- 
ledgment of such merits in others, as announce to 
us the existence of a noble soul, and of principles in 
harmony with our own. 

But truly wise and great men, that is to say, true 
Christians, are rare, therefore the existence of genuine 
self-esteem is also rare. Delusive self-love diminishes 
in our eyes the faults that disfigure ourselves, and 
exaggerates the merit of whatever good we may at- 
tempt or contemplate. Few of us are sufficiently 
impartial fully to acknowledge the merits of other 
people, and to honour them with unfeigned admira- 
tion, or without tacking on a little qualifying " but'* 
when forced to praise. Few persons have sufficient 
elevation of mind to attach no more value than is due 
:r to such advantages as are but gifts of chance or of 

m nature, or which have no bearing on the important 

things of life ; on the contrary, most persons are apt 
to bestow on these, even when possessed by others, 
the admiration which belongs solely to true merit, and 
they are more especially prone to give themselves up 
U| to immoderate exultation when such advantages fall 

*' to their own lot. 

As long as the joy inspired by advantages or com- 
•|i forts which we derive from nature or from fortunate 

lij circumstances, expresses itself merely in simple satis- 

*!" faction at their possession, and we hold in mind that 

we owe them not to any merit of our own, but that 
they are ours only through . God's grace, then our 
pleasure in them may be perfectly innocent. But it 
becomes blameworthy, and even sinful, when it ex- 
presses itself in depreciation of other persons because 



ARE INFERIOR TO 7HEE, igi 

they are not what we are, or do not possess v/hat v/e 
possess. 

Can anything be more displeasing than the self- 
vaunting conceit of those who, because favoured by 
nature and circumstances, they are able to develope 
mental qualities, and to acquire knowledge and expe- 
rience surpassing those of less fortunate individuals, 
look down with disdainful pity on their fellow-men 
who are less gifted, or less learned, or less skilful than 
themselves ; or who scornfully depreciate the under- 
standing and the acquirements of others, in order to 
make their own talents shine the more ; or who will 
not acknowledge the force of anything which they 
have not themselves thought, or said, or done ; 
always putting forward their little " I," lest it should 
be ignored or forgotten by others. This self-conceit 
is a fault peculiar to entire classes, whose vocation it 
is to render themselves useful by their mental ac- 
quirements ; it is, therefore, commonly called artist 
pride, or the scholar's pride ; but it may also be 
called professional pride, for it is found in the handi- 
craftsman as well as in the statesman, in the priest 
as well as in the v^arrior. 

This pride is in itself just as offensive and as repel- 
lant as purse pride, also called the trader's pride and 
the peasant's pride, because it is supposed to belong 
more especially to these two classes. This puffing- 
up of oneself because one can afford to have better 
clothes, better food, better furniture than other people, 
and the pleasure felt in impressing this superiority on 
others, are the . m.ore senseless, as the benefits on 
which they are based are not only of such a transient 
nature that they may vanish in a moment^ but are 



Ig2 LEARN TO RESPECT THOSE WHO 

frequently not even the fruits of a man^s own in- 
dustry, and are limited to the lowest enjoyment of 
which human nature is capable, viz., the gratifica- 
tion of mere bodily and animal tastes. 

But equally irrational is the vanity of those who, 
proud of their beauty (a fleeting good which at the 
longest can last but a few years) or of their fine 
apparel and costly ornaments, fancy that these ad- 
vantages give them a real superiority over others, 
upon whom as not possessing them they look down 
v/ith pitying contempt. Alas ! how greatly are they 
mxistaken. Beauty that is self-conscious has already 
lost its greatest attraction, and the expression that 
denotes an amiable disposition far exceeds every other 
charm. Those who pay too great tribute to their 
own merits, are apt to obtain even less than is their 
due from others. 

Therefore, also, the arrogance of those who pride 
themselves on their birth, their pedigree, their rank or 
their titles, seldom attains its object. This pride, 
which will hardly admit that persons of inferior birth 
or position are of the same nature as their superiors, 
or have the same rights or claims in life — obscures 
any merit which those who are governed by it may in 
reality possess. He who exalts himself too much, is 
placed all the lower by others, because his over-wean- 
ing pretensions remJnd them that it is not pedigree 
and rank that confer honour on a man, but that a 
man must do honour to his pedigree and his rank. 
But he who with noble humility seeks not to exalt 
himself, he is placed high by others. For seeing 
that real greatness of soul v/hich causes him to, attach 
no importance to his outv/ard circumstances and 



ARE INFERIOR TO THEE. 



193 



worldly distinctions, others are reminded all the more 
forcibly of how much he is worth in himself, and 
they feel that the love and esteem entertained for him 
are independent of the accidental advantages of birth 
and position. 

We therefore see that among the great and power- 
ful of the earth, those are the most heartily revered 
by their subordinates, and the most admired by 
strangers, who, though possessing great power, are 
modest ; who, though wealthy, are, simple and without 
ostentation, and who, forgetful of empty splendour 
and senseless vanities, are intent only on the per- 
formance of noble duties. The pride of power is 
always the surest means of diminishing the very 
power that inspires it ; for it calls forth legitimate 
opposition, and the strength of opponents increases 
when actively exercised. " Many tyrants have been 
forced to take their seat upon the ground ; and 
crowns have been placed upon the heads of those 
of whom no one thought. Many great lords have 
fallen low, and mighty kings have fallen into the hands 
of others." (Sirach xi. 5, 6.) 

Therefore hold no one in contempt, and 
never hurt the feelings of another by the 
display of thine own superior advantages. 
Even worldly prudence inculcates this rule ; religion 
imposes it as a duty. 

Undue appreciation of our own qualities in every 
case betrays weakness either of the head or of the 
heart; very frequently of both. Do we not know 
from personal experience how offensive to our feelings 
are the pride and presumption of other persons, how 
revolting the conduct of those who endeavour to 

o 



194 LEARN ro RESPECT TEIGSE WHO 

humiliate us by a sense of their superiority ? Well, 
these very feelings we call forth in others, when we 
give even the slightest evidence before them of how 
much we exult in the possession of qualities or 
perfections in v/hich they are failing. Instead of hu- 
miliating them, we only stir up their pride. Instead 
of securing for ourselves respect and admiration, we 
inspire opposite feelings, namely secret ridicule, con- 
tempt, and dislike. Now, when a person acts so 
senselessly as to do the very reverse of what he 
desires to do, he gives evidence of weakness of 
understanding. 

In addition to this, any one who prides himself 
upon his superiority over others, generally becomes 
the slave of the very persons above whom he thinks 
himself so elevated. For how much of the enjoyment 
of life does he not sacrifice in order to secure to 
himself the exalted opinion of those whose approval 
is hardly worth soliciting ! And how imperceptibly 
does he not become the servant of those who are 
cunning enough to avail themselves of his weakness 
by flattering his vanity and pride ! A proud person 
is always the most easy to guide. You have but to 
recognize his pretensions, and he is in your power. 
He fancies that he is idolized, and he becomes the 
football of the designing, the instrument of the am- 
bition, the blind contributor to the self-seeking of 
others, and he is set aside and forgotten by his flat- 
terers when he is no more needed for the attainment 
of their ends. 

Look down upon no one, treat no one v/ith con- 
tempt, and pride not thyself on thine ov/n advantages. 
For such presumption is always offensive, and is never 



ARE INFERIOR TO THEE, 



195 



forgiven. Every individual bears within himself the 
feeling of his own rights, and demands that others 
should respect them. Everyone knows what he is 
worth in his own position, and cannot with equanimity 
bear the attemipts of others to destroy, as it were, this 
elevating consciousness. Besides, many persons at- 
tach but little value to the very distinction on which 
thou pridest thyself. Thou vauntest thyself of thy 
rank, which, perhaps, others have repeatedly refused ; 
of thy riches and possessions, for which others care 
nought, because they have as much as they want; of 
thy knowledge and thy skill 5 while the interests and 
the desires of others are turned in another direction; 
of thy beauty of face and figure, v/hile the tastes of 
men differ so greatly, that v/hat one admires another 
thinks displeasing. The less, therefore, others appre- 
ciate that which thou woyldst impose upon them as 
of surpassing value, the more are they hurt by thy 
latent or thy unconcealed pride ; the more offensive 
to them is thy presumption and thy depreciation of 
others. They feel they have not deserved this, and 
are therefore the more deeply wounded by the con- 
tempt in v/hich thou boldest them. The instances 
are rare in which proud persons have escaped humi- 
liation even in this v/orld. Whoever rouses hostile 
antagonism thoughtlessly prepares discomfiture for him- 
self and malicious joy for others. There is a warning 
truth in the old proverb : Pride must have a fall. 
^' Be not uplifted because of thy apparel, and be not 
proud because of thy dignities," says an ancient sage, 
*•■• for the Lord is incomprehensible in His ways, and 
no one knows what may be His will." 

Hold no one in contempt because he is less, or has 

o 2 



196 LEARN TO RESPECT THOSE WHO 

less than thou. For the advantages thou possessest 
are not the highest possessed by man. No one com- 
prises within himself all perfections. God has en- 
dowed men with various qualities through means of 
which they may become useful and valuable ; none 
of these qualities are contemptible. Therefore, 
honour not so much the good which thou possessest 
as that which others possess and which thou lackest, 
and strive to become like unto them therein. Even 
the lowliest being, whom thou considerest hardly 
worthy of a look, may perhaps exceed thee in most 
valuable qualities ; dost thou know him so intimately 
that thou shouldst undertake to decide what he is 
worth ? No man is so bad that he has not some 
good side ; no man so inferior that he may not exceed 
thee in some kind of skilfulness, in some useful 
quality. " The bee is a small insect/' says Sirach, 
^' and yet produces the sweetest honey." He who 
turns the talent received from God to the best 
account, and proves most useful in his position and 
in his time, he is the most worthy of esteem, be his 
sphere of action high or low, wide or narrow. Not 
what we are^ as to worldly position, but what we do — 
not what we have^ but the use we make of it, deter- 
mines our value. Therefore, look not down upon 
that which is lower in man, but upwards to that 
which is higher ; fix not thy attention upon what 
thou hast, but upon that which others have which 
thou hast not. For that which thou lackest is of 
far more importance as regards thy merit than that 
which thou possessest. 

Look not with contempt on any one, but even 
shouldst thou feel contempt for thy fellow-men, 



ARE INFERIOR TO THEE. 



197 



beware never to let it appear, for thou wilt be pre- 
paring discomfiture for thyself. Many a person may 
be too powerless to do thee good ; but no mortal is 
so powerless that he may not some day do thee an 
injury. " Vaunt no one because of the great honour 
in which he is held, for perchance it may be his mis- 
fortune, neither despise a man because of his lowly 
estate." (Sirach.) However insignificant the place 
of an individual in the social fabric, he may, by a 
special combination of circumstances, become very 
important to thee. A/Ian is not pov/erful by his own 
strength alone, but by the force of circumstances 
which conspire in his favour. It is not an unheard-of 
event that poor servants have become the supporters 
of their former masters ; that the bread of the beggar 
has appeased the hunger of the rich ; that common 
varlets have saved the lives of princes ; that slaves 
have given freedom to th^eir masters. And equally 
numerous are the cases in which individuals, poor, 
insignificant, and powerless, have caused the ruin of 
the richest, most learned, most powerful, or most 
important personages. Thou knowest not what thy 
fate may be in future, still less what may be the for- 
tunes of those whom thou now despisest. Perhaps 
in a few years a lucky concatenation of events may 
place them in so favourable a position that thou wile 
consider it an honour to be reckoned among the 
friends of one whom to-day in thy pride thou lookest 
down upon. 

But above all it is religion that must deter us from 
the melancholy aberration of heart and mind called 
pride, by reminding us that God, our Father in 
Heaven, is also the God of the lowliest of our 



ig8 LEARN TO RESPECT THOSE WHO 

fellow-men ; that the wise man is the brother of the 
ignorant, as the king is the brother of the beggar, 
and as the loveliest maiden is the sister of the least 
attractive one ; while lowliness may also be taught 
us by the example of Jesus, who, notwithstanding 
His high wisdom, and His Godlike qualities and 
virtues, always remained touchingly faithful to His 
noble humility and self-abnegation. Indeed how can 
we be proud of things which do not in reality belong 
to us, which are only talents entrusted to us by God 
for our earthly life, alas, perhaps not even for so long, 
perhaps only for a few short years ! 

O God, have we then received Thy benefits in 
order that we may proudly boast of them to other 
children of Thine, or in order that we may use 
them for their good ? Away then with this sense- 
less pride in gifts which we have obtained from Thee 
without any merit of our own ; gifts for the use 
we have made of which we must one day account 
to Thee ! 

Pride of any kind is an aberration of the mind. 
Therefore it is also of all the passions the one that 
most frequently leads to real madness. Nay, Father 
in Heaven, I will watch myself, lest the innocent 
pleasure with which I regard the talent thou hast 
entrusted to me degenerate into presumption, and a 
contempt for others, on whom Thou hast in Thy 
impartial and all-comprehending love bestowed advan- 
tages and qualities in which I am failing. 

Not pride, but a sense of noble elevation above the 
transient trifles of life, shall hold possession of me, 
and shall inspire me with a respect for that which has 
an eternal value, and which, if 1 possess. I shall one 



j^RE INFERIOR 10 THEE. 



199 



day appear before Thee without tremblbg. And 
should false self-love ever threaten to blind me to 
the truth, I will recall to mind the death of those 
whom I have loved best, and consider of how little 
avail in their last moments were all their earthly dis- 
tinctions ; I will remind myself of my own disso- 
lution, and of what I shall then probably think of 
beaut}^, which will so soon be converted into dust 
and corruption ; of riches which will pass to others ; 
of fame, whose voice will be lost in the grave ; of 
rank and power which will vanish' like shadows with 
my last breath ! Amen, 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 

The righteous man, how blest is he I 

Thou art his God, his great reward j 
Oh, that my life might righteous be ! 

Thus ever present with the Lord : 
So should I feel my anxious soul 
Was drawing near perfection's goal. 

Away self-pride and vanity, 

'Neath which my frailties lie concealed ; 

Unveiled before my searching eye. 

Faults, failures, all shall stand revealed. 

What is more meet for man to learn 

Than his own nature to discern ? 

Who, who can tell how oft he fails ? 

Thou, God, alone can search me through. 
For good Thy strength alone avails ; 

Oh take me, Lord ! my heart renew j 
Make me desire all pure to be, 
From every hidden sin set free. 

(2 CcR. iii. 5.) 

The human soul is like light that illumines every- 
thing but itself. When the soul attains full con- 
sciousness, its knowledge may extend from the nearest, 
objects to the most distant stars ; yet within itself all 
may remain so dark that no eye can penetrate its 
gloom. 

Through the instrumentality of our senses, cur soul 
takes cognizance of form and colour, of articulate and 
inarticulate sounds, and of all other matters in the 
outer world j but concerning itself it learns nothing 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE, 201 

except through its inward activity and its self-con- 
sciousness. 

The spirit solves many a riddle on earth, but that 
which lies nearest to it, the mystery of its own being, 
it cannot penetrate. 

This strange difficulty of self-knowledge extends 
even to our own bodies. We see all other things far 
oftener and far more distinctly than we behold our- 
selves. There are, indeed, many parts of our body 
that we never see. We are able without difficulty to 
picture to ourselves, even when they are absent, the 
appearance of persons with whom we are more or less 
familiar, but our own image we cannot bring before 
the mind's eye, however frequently we may have 
gazed at it in the murror \ 3.t all events it dwells but 
vaguely and indistinctly in our memory. 

This strange fact must have struck many. Why 
has the Creator thus ordained it ? Does not the 
question naturally arise : " I knov/ so m.any things, 
why myself least of all ? " 

That with which we are thoroughly acquainted, we 
cease to observe. But as we never behold ourselves 
except in a kind of misty twilight, our attention and 
our curiosity are constantly incited to seek to penetrate 
the obscurity. Thus every individual is made to feel 
that the noblest object of study which mian can select 
is man himself. 

But the spiritual, thinking, wilKng element within 
us, which we call the soul, cannot be observed through 
the senses. We learn to know its existence through 
its self-consciousness alone ; or through its activity, 
its thoughts, Welshes, desires, and feelings. Even the 
souls of other men we learn to know only through 



202 SELF-KNOJVLEDGE. 

their activity. And as all human spirits are, by the 
highest Spirit, endowed with reason ; as this reason in 
all acknowledges the same laws as to what is true, 
right, and good : we are by means of these laws 
enabled to judge as to whether one spirit is nobler, 
more perfect than another, according as its inward 
character is revealed in a higher or lower tone of 
mind, in nobler or less noble aims, words, and deeds. 

It may be said with truth that the beginning and 
foundation of all earthly wisdom, as well as its highest 
object, is self-knowledge. Therefore, " Learn to 
know thyself," was the fundamental doctrine of one 
of the noblest sages of heathen antiquity. Therefore, 
the Holy Scriptures recommend the same means for 
attaining true wisdom when they say : '^ Examine 
yourselves, whether ye be in the faith ; prove your 
own selves." (2 Cor. xiii. 5.) 

Without intimate self-knowledge I am incapable 
of judging wherein consist my good tendencies and 
capacities, which it is my duty to use for higher 
purposes, as also what is the principal source of the 
various failings which prevent me from enjoying full 
satisfaction with myself and with things out of myself 
How can I convince any one of error if I do not 
know what errors are peculiar to him ? Or how 
can I improve a thing the defects in which are un- 
known to me ? 

The majority of men are, however, far too little 
familiar with themselves. In consequence, they are 
apt to mistake their defects for virtues, and also either 
to over-estim.ate or to underrate their real good qua- 
lities and capacities. Therefore, also, they are seldom 
quite self-consistent, but contradict themselves both 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE, 203 

in words and deeds. They have no perfect self- 
dependence, but allow themselves to be carried away 
by the stream of circumstances ; they keep their eye 
on the haven towards which they are steering, but not 
on the ship in v/hich they are borne along. 

Yet he only, who makes it his constant occupation 
to observe all the workings of his ov/n mind, learns to 
know what is really valuable in human society. How- 
should he learn to know this, w^ho knows nothing of 
himiSelf, or who is foolish enough to judge himself 
according to the inspirations of his self-love alone ? 
It is no wonder if he believe that the world misjudges 
him, though in reality it judge him more correctly 
than he does himself. Thence arise constant collisions 
and misunderstandings ; thence also constant dissen- 
sions and want of mutual love. 

Many a man fancies that he is magnanimous to his 
enemies, and ready to forgive them, because he holds 
out the hand of peace ; whereas it is but his coward- 
liness that makes him desire to be in friendly relations 
with those whom in his heart he really hates. Adany 
a man believes himself chaste and moral, because he 
has not fallen in the same way as others ; but he does 
not take into account the circumstances that have 
saved him from falling. It was perhaps not so much 
horror of sin that withheld him, as want of opportu- 
nity, or fear of the shame that might follow. Many 
persons, again, believe themselves to be benevolent 
and kind, and devoted to the common-weal, because 
they feel pleasure in affording aid to all undertakings 
planned for the benefit of individuals, of the city in 
which they live, or of the whole country. But they 
fail to observe that in the depths of their hearts sits 



204 self-knowledge, 

ambition directing all their actions, and that, perhaps, 
they have never done a kindness which they have not 
allowed to become known to one human being at least. 
It is a gratification to them to do good, but at the same 
time it is also a gratification to know that others are 
aware of it. 

These self-delusions are the consequence of imper- 
fect self-knowledge — and how could he lay claim to 
being called wise, who is ever apt to deceive himself 
more or less grossly ? 

What is my value in the human comm.unity ? What 
part do I play in it ? These questions, which are so 
important to us, and in which even our self-love 
is interested, cannot be answered without lono; and 
close observation of all that passes daily in our own 
minds. 

Not until we have become familiar with the most 
secret folds in our own hearts ; not until we have 
learnt to discern the lower as well as the higher 
motives by which we are actuated on every given 
occasion ; not until we have learnt narrowly to watch 
the varying feelings that determine our decisions, and 
dictate our utterances, can we acquire an unerring 
and trustworthy standard by which to measure other 
men. 

Ah, let no one who has not closely scrutinized 
himself venture to pronounce judgment on the words 
and deeds of his feilow-men, for his judgment must 
infallibly be superficial, and founded on appearances 
only. If he have no clear knowledge of himself and 
of the source of his own feelino-s, how will he be able 
to divine the secret motives of other hearts ? But he 
who has deeply studied himself, will, by the melan- 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 205 

choly remembrance of his own weakness, learn to be 
lenient to the defects of his fellow-men ; wl^ile at 
other times he may hesitate to join in the loud chorus 
of praise raised by the multitude. He knows but too 
well how little real merit there may be in actions 
which the world lauds, and how much indulgence 
and tender consideration may be due to many un- 
happy beings whom the world condemns, because 
tempting circumstances, hot blood, or the pressure 
of want, have led them in passionate self-forgetful- 
ness to commit a deed, the memory of which a whole 
life of repentance does not suffice to blot out. 
Through self-knowledge only can we attain true 
knowledge of human nature, and through this latter 
alone can we acquire power and influence over 
other men. 

Everybody has some reason for wishing to obtain 
influence over the persons in the midst of whom he 
lives. Be this influence greater or less, it is in every 
case essential for our own happiness. For how 
should we be able to live without the aid and the 
sympathy of our fel!ow-men ? How should we be 
able to carry out anything useful in the community, if 
we could not win over at least some few others to 
our views ? A knowledge of human nature teaches 
us how to touch hearts, and how to overcome the 
obstacles which exist in the minds of our fellow- 
citizens, and which are apt secretly to obstruct our 
most noble undertakings. 

Self-knowledge is of so much imiportance in regard 
to our entire life here below, and also in eternity, that 
to acquire it ought to be the chief task of every 
Christian who is anxious that his immortal soul should 



20 6 SELF-KNOWLEDGE, 

attain a high degree of perfection even here on earth. 
But how can it ever attain such perfection if he 
neglects the first step tov/ards it ? Or how can he hope 
to reach the highest degree of perfection, in the eternal 
kingdom of spirits, into v/hich his soul shall pass at the 
moment of his earthly dissolution, if he have not the 
courage to seek to become in this life already, as good, 
as pure, and as great as his opportunities will admit of? 
It is true the beginning of all things is difficult, so 
also of self-examination. We shall, no doubt, often 
weary of it ; often neglect it, in order not to touch 
some wound of the conscience which is still smarting; 
often postpone it, because some contemptible passion 
within us is still craving to be satisfied. At all 
times, moreover, self-love will blind the mind's eye 
to its own deficiencies, and will throw a cloak over 
its v/eaknesses, and endeavour to conceal from view 
certain blemishes. For to attain self-knowledge we 
have first to wage v/ar against our lower self ; we 
must first impose silence on our ambition and our 
pride, on our covetousness and our tendency to volup- 
tuousness, on our hatred and our anger, in order 
that the calm voice of reason may make itself heard. 

Consider, before every important action in thy life, 
what thy conduct ought to be as a Christian and a 
rational being, and v/hiiher, on the other hand, thy 
sensual desires and thy feelings are impelling thee. 
Then decide quickly in favour of the right, of that 
which thy conscience approves, and subdue thy 
selfishness, however strenuously it may resist. 

Reflect after each act, by which thou hast either 
benefited or injured another human being, why thou 
didst this, by v/hat motives thou wert actuated. 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 20/ 

Search with unflinching eye for the secret causes, 
however cunningly they may have concealed them- 
selves. If perchance thou hast acted, not with deli- 
berate forethought, and calm mind, but hast been 
hurried on by various circumstances, v/ithout being 
allowed time for reflection, inquire, nevertheless, 
v/hat were the feelings that agitated thee, and how 
they originated. Whether thou didst right to allow 
them to gain the ascendant at that moment ? 
"Whether thy precipitancy has not perhaps caused 
thee to sink in the estimation of those who until then 
held thee in the high esteem of which they thought 
thee deserving because they had never before seen 
thee so weak ? What is the reason whv on this, as 
on so many other occasions, thou art discontented 
with what thou hast spoken ? What is the true 
though secret cause of the im.petuosity of which thou 
art often found guilty ? Is it not thy latent vanity, 
which is always breaking forth, sometimes even 
against thy v^ill ? Or is it perhaps thy wounded 
pride, which, however loudly thou m^ayst deny its 
existence, still holds thee in subjection? Or is it 
uneasy, ever-craving covetousness, of which thou art 
the slave, and which overlays all thy good qualities ? 

If thou searchest thy heart with a sincere desire to 
know the truth, the real sources of thy various feelings 
will not remain hidden from thee ; and if, when thou 
hast discovered them, thou iindest them so impure, 
that for thine own honour's sake thou wouldst fain 
conceal them from the v/hole world, why dost thou 
not eradicate them at once, however much it may cost 
thee ? What worth can that esteem have in thine 
eyes, which thou knowest within thyself thou dost 
not deserve, and which thou feelest persuaded would 



208 SELF-KNOV/LEDGE. 

not be entertained for thee, wert thou seen in thy 
true colours ? Wouldst thou rather cover over a 
consuming cancer in thy body v^ith gold and scarlet to 
conceal it from ignorant mortals, than seek to heal it ? 
Art thou really more perfect because men honour 
thee ? Nay, not so, for thou mayst know thyself 
guilty of acts and feelings which even deprive thee of 
thy self-respect ; and the Omniscient God thou canst 
not deceive, and He sees the blemishes of which thou 
refusest to purify thyself 

In the bustle of common life, time and inclination 
to meditate upon ourselves indeed often fail. The day 
is devoted to work, business, and intercourse with 
others ; and it is upon these that we are to bring to 
bear the principles which we have formed in quiet 
hours of contemplation. 

But when at night we v/ithdrav/ from the turmoil of 
the world, and, so to say, once more possess ourselves; 
when darkness spreads its v/ings over us, and every- 
thing around is hushed in silence and repose, and we 
are given over to ourselves and God alone — God, 
whose might upholds us even in the darkness, and in 
Vi^hose hand lies our life, and the health and existence 
of those we love — then is the time^^ for earnest ^self- 
examination. Nature seems to force us back into 
ourselves, and the events of the day that has just 
l«:: gone by, pass voluntarily before the m^ind's eye, to 

allow themselves to be reviewed. 

Then prove thyself as the Scriptures bid thee : if 
thou hast lived in faith, /. e, if thou hast throughout 
the day thought and acted with the propriety, nobility, 
dispassionateness, courtesy, and desire to serve others, 
which thy Saviour Jesus, and, through Him, thy God 
hath commanded thee. Begin with the question : 



SELF'KNOV/LEDGE, 209 

*' What action have I performed to-day, which will 
bear witness before the judgment seat of the Omni- 
scient of my w^illingness to do right r What faults were 
most active in me to-day, and caused me to be guilty 
of unjust deeds, or unworthy feelings ? Whence come 
these faults, and w^hat can I do to conquer them, and 
to cherish the virtues that are the opposites of them ? 

'' Perhaps I ha\'e been passionate and violent during 
the day, and have hurt, without any adequate cause, 
the feelings of some acquaintance, or of some inmate 
of my home. Perhaps I did not reflect at the time that 
the persons who oiiended me, did so from thought- 
lessness, and not with any malicious intention. Yet 
what a difference does this not make r At least they 
did not merit my treating them with so much harsh- 
ness. Do I feel that I have done wrong : That I 
might have acted far otherwise ? 

" It is true, whispers self-love, ever ready with 
excuses, it is true ^ but, after all, it was very natural 
that I should act as I did, for I w^as out of temper, 
and when this is the case we do not weigh our words. 

" But this excuse proves that I v/as aware that my 
mind was unhinged, and knowing this, why did I allow 
my ill-humour to vent itself on an innocent object? 
I knew that I was depressed or discontented ; why 
then did I not at once make a resolution not to allow 
myself to say a harsh word to any one while I was in 
that mood, but to remain silent, even should cause be 
given for anger : For it is well known that when 
angry, as when intoxicated, we see things, not as they 
really are, but in. a perverted light. 

'' But perhaps it was not only that day but habitu- 
ally that I am prone to anger. Self-love whispers : it 

P 



210 SELF-KNOV/LEDGE. 

is a defect in the temperament, and faults belonging to 
our nature are not easily eradicated. But who knows 
whether it is really a defect of temperament, or, if 
SO5 whether it may not nevertheless be conquered by 
a resolute will: Have I made an attempt: I am 
always able to curb mv irascibility when in the pre- 
sence of high personages, or of strangers, or when 
surrounded by those whose esteem I am anxious to 
retain — do not these instances, in which I am able 
to restrain my temper, convict me of error when I 
maintain that it is part of my nature, and cannot 
therefore be eradicated r If I am able to conquer it at 
one time, why not at another ? If a sudden diversion 
of feeling has proved ia one instance to be an effica- 
cious preventive of the outbursts of my passion, why 
do I not try the remedy each time my ill-humour 
threatens to get the better of me ? ^^ 

Such is the way a Christian speaks to himself in 
quiet hours of self-examination. But even when 
most determined to silence the whisperings of self- 
love, when probing, our, own worthiness or unworthi- 
ness, and seeking to see ourselves in a true light, we 
rarely succeed in being quite impartial. Our judg- 
ment of ourselves will always in a great measure take 
a colouring from the mood of the moment. That 
which seems to us of very little importance when we 
are in a cheerful state of mind, appears to us in hours 
of dejection even more reprehensible than it really is. 

For the acquirement of self-knowledge, it is there- 
fore very useful to listen to the judgment of sincere 
and upright friends, and to ponder on what they may 
have to say as to our defects of mind or conduct. If 
they judge rightly, our conscience vrill not fail to tell 



SELF-KNOIiTEDGE. 211 

US so, and the flattering testimony of self-love will be 
put to shame. Nay, even the judgments of those 
who are hostilely inclined towards us mav be of the 
greatest use in enabling us to detect our foibles and 
our shortcomings. For an enemy will be more sharp- 
sighted as to our smallest defect than the best friend. 

To acquire self-knowledge shall be the constant 
task of my life ; for it is the mirror in which mv soul 
beholds itself. It is the beacon that guides the spirit 
through the darkness of life ! I will henceforward 
sit in judgment upon myself with deep earnestness, 
that I may be the more certain of rejoicing in the 
grace and mercy of the Lord, my God. I thirst 
after perfection. Thou, O my God, hast placed in 
my way the means of sanctifying and ennobling 
myself: 'how can I justify' myself, if I despise and 
neglect these means ? 

Oh, support me with 'Thy might and strength, 
when, in accordance with Thy holy commandment, I 
prove the worth of my own heart. The thought of 
Thy will, and Thy Omniscience, will remind me 
each night of rendering an account to Thee, and to 
myself — an earnest account, such as it behoves me to 
make to. the Onmipresent, before whom all deception 
is vain. 

He who is in the habit of keeping such account 
with himself, each day diminishing the number of his 
debts, and each day increasing the number of his 
virtues : Oh, he may in the last hour, when an ac- 
count is to be rendered of his entire life, look up 
with a happy smile and childhke trust to Thee, O 
Heavenly Father. He will have done as much as 
in him lies. Be merciful unto him ! Amen. 

p 2 



EQUANLMITY OF .MIND. 



Ch 



-e Ch 



lic^r.:..i::.i^:.:,-z'. 



■Trcvires XV :. 32.) 

It cannot be denied that vre are ourselves tbe authors 

of the greater nun^be: 0: evils ur.der vrhich we suffer. 
If we are living ::: e:::::::v v."i;j: czners, p~:: 01 :he 
blame generally attaches to ourselves. If we are 
labouring ur,der secret sorrow, we mav mostlv accuse 
ourselves, w::h iustice, of having been the cause of 
it ; and ye: vre v/o'^ld all fain be happy I 

How are we to explain the existence of this desire 
for harpiness side bv side \vi:h that unoard:^nable 
imprudence which is e\'er leadd:^: us to ces:::v -/.-;:h 
our own hands that which we have endea'/cureu so 
carekilly to build up: Hcv is it th:^:. :h:u^n ever 
wishing to secure to ourselves a ci"eer:\.l s::;te of 
mind, we, at the sam^e m.oment, do eve:v:hin^- in our 
power to destroy our ovrn peace, ccn:er.:n: en:, 2:\d 
joy? How is i: possible to understand :ha: m-n, 
though l:-.:::^ himself so devoteclv, sh:uld ne'/erthe- 
less act towards himself v/i:h a c:uel:v from which 
even his bitterest enemv would recoil : 



E^'ANIMI-JT OF MIND, 21 3 

If I look into myself and earnestly seek for the 
reason of these contradictions, I find that one of the 
principal sources of my discontent is the excessive 
liveliness of my feelings and the over-wrought sensi- 
tiveness of my mind, to which at first I give myself 
up with a certain experience of pleasure, but which 
■end by overmastering me, instead of remaining under 
my control. 

To persons with acute feelings every pleasure does 
indeed come with double zest, but to them also sorrow 
comes with greater poignancy. He v/ho gives himself 
entirely up to the emotions which arise in him on 
some given occasion generally converts his joys into 
sources of discontent; while, on the other hand, every 
mishap causes far more vexation than it ought reason- 
ably to call forth. 

It is true the amount of sensibility with which we 
are endowed does not depend upon ourselves, but is a 
gift of God, a quality of our minds which we have 
received from nature. We cannot make ourselves 
otherwise than we are ; but we can at all times retain 
the mastery over our feelings, and control even our 
most lively sentiments. And our highest duty, as well 
as mere worldly prudence, demands this of us, 

Man cannot indeed prevent that which is joyful 
from affecting him pleasurably, but he can prevent 
himself from acting foolishly in his joy. It is equally 
true that man cannot always prevent sudden ano^er or 
indignation, or unutterable grief, from taking posses- 
sion of his heart \ but he can control himself so as not 
to speak or to act during the first outburst of his pas- 
sion. Many persons v/ho are otherwise by no means 
^evil-minded do an immense deal of mischief, merelv 



214 E^ANIMirr OF MIND. 

because they do not sufficiently control themselves, or 
perhaps even consider it meritorious to let themselves 
be entirely carried away by their feelings. A poor 
merit, indeed, v^hich we share with every unreasoning 

animal ! 

There are people, otherwise true, trustworthy, 
prudent, and reserved, who, when their hearts over- 
flow with joy, so completely forget themselves and 
what they owe to others, that they divulge their own 
or other people^s secrets v/ith unpardonable thought- 
lessness ; others do the same during paroxysms of 
anger. How many bitter hours, how many years of 
repentance, have not such momentary imprudences 
caused ! 

It is still more common to see persons of over- 
sensitive disposition as much affected by some shght 
mischance as they might be by some real misfortune. 
Even insignificant circumstances excite their feelings 
in an extraordinary manner. A dream, a mere fancy, 
will suffice to depress their spirits for a whole day, 
and to render them incapable of any enjoyment. 
Such sensibility, though ofcen a result of physical 
weakness, is as frequently the effect of a self-indul- 
gent, ill-regulated, and morbid mind, which has never 
yet had the courage to make even an attempt to 
master its own feelings. 

The evils that may be caused by such absence of 
' self-restraint have been made manifest by a thousand 
sad experiences. It is Vv^ell known that persons v/hoss 
feelings are very excitable and who exercise no con- 
trol over them are liable to become victims of the 
craft of others and to be led by them ; and that those 
who think themselves thoroughly independent because 



ES^UANlMlTr OF MIND, 2I5 

they give themselves up without restraint or reserve 
to all their caprices, are the weakest, and most de- 
pendent on the unworthy characters that surround 
them. It is well known that persons whose minds 
. are disturbed by strong passions always act with less 
prudence and judgment than those w^ho enjoy a more 
equable state of mind, and \vho never lose their 
self-possession. It is well known, that when over- 
excitable people refuse to exercise the power v/hich 
the soul has over the body and over the ebullition 
of the feelings, thev at last become intolerable to 
themselves and insufFerable to society, that they in- 
jure their health, and that they not only cut ofF the 
joys of life but shorten life itself, and thus become 
as it w^ere destrovers of themselves. 

Even the ancients taught men that they ought to 
observe the golden medium in joy and in sorrow, that 
even as to sentiments intemperance is a vice. Indeed, 
all wise and virtuous men comm.end equanimit}^ of 
mind, and Jesus Christ, the Divine Founder of our 
religion, set us throughout His earchly life a sublime 
example of a moderation, which in the hours of joy 
never exceeded the limits of propriety and dignity, 
and of- an equanimity" which in the times of deepest 
grief was never shaken. Whether at the joyful 
wedding feast in Cana, or in the fearful hour of 
agony on the cross, Jesus was alwavs the same — 
always meek, calm, benevolent, anxious for the wel- 
fare of others, without exuberance in joy, without 
impatience or dejection in sorrow. 

The want of self-possession under various cir- 
cumstances, the absence of true Christian equanimity, 
is a great obstacle to peace of mind and to a pure 



2l6 



E^ANIMirr OF MIND. 



and pious life, because it is a source of many faults 
and sins. 

It is therefore the duty of every Christian, of every 
human being, indeed, who aspires to true wisdom, 
and who would enjoy a happy and cheerful life, to 
endeavour to acquire evenness of mind. 

For equanimitv is that calm mcod of the soul 
which enables it to act with perfect self-possession, 
and prevents us from ever giving way to exago;erated 
grief or jov. The soul of a person who possesses it 
is raised above every pleasure and every pain, holds 
these in check, and never allows itself to be over- 
whelmed by either. 

A Christian ought always to be the same; that is 
to say, he ought always to be absolute master of him- 
self. Onlv in so far can he vindicate for himself the 
sublime position which his religion assigns to him 
among the creatures of God. By this it is not meant, 
however, that he is to be indifferent to, or unrecep- 
tive for, pleasure. No ; a pure heart m.ay always be 
a cheerful heart ; but he must never allow himself to 
be intoxicated by pleasure. Nor does it mean that a 
Christian ought to be im^pervious to suffering himself, 
and without sympathy for the sufferings of others. 
No ; he is human, he must therefore suffer, but he 
need not be conquered by the ills of life. Painful 
emotions may arise in him, but he v/il! soon regain his 
composure. He is like a lofcy rock ; round its base 
the stormy waves of the ocean foam and break, its 
breast is wrapped in dark clouds, but its summit rises 
majestically into the bright sunlight and reflects tliC 
dancing beams. 

Think not that the attainment of this sublime equa- 



E^ANIMirr OF MIND. 2 1 J 

nimity, this glorious, never-varying serenity of mind 
is a task beyond thy powers. Think not that it is 
chiefly a matter of temperament, or dependent upon 
outward circumstances. Great is the power of cir- 
cumstances, and great the influence of our sensuous 
nature : but mightier than both is the soul of the 
Christian, of the wise man. 

Say not that thou ait content to continue as thou 
art and that thou desirest no more happiness than 
thou actually enjoyest ; that thou needest not to do 
violence to thyself; that others must just bear with 
thee as thou art ; and that if thy excessive sensibility 
and sensitiveness, and the exuberance of thy grief or 
thy joy should prove injurious to thee, it is thine own 
affair, and thou wilt know how to support it ! No ; 
this is a question that bears intimately not only on thy 
earthly happiness, but on thy health, the duration of 
thy life, thy Christianity,* thy self-improvement, and 
even on thy eternal happiness ! 

It is true, an equable state of mind cannot be 
attained without a struggle, without self-subjugation ; 
but never- failing serenity of soul, this heavenly fruit of 
wisdom, this jewel of a pious. Christian heart, is well 
worth even the severest struggle. 

The first step towards the attainment of equanimity 
is constantly to keep a watch over ourselves, so as not 
to allow our feelings on any occasion whatsoever to 
get the better of us, and that, happen what may, v/e 
always remain calm and collected* He who has ac- 
quired this habit of self-watchfulness, and the firm 
will never to lose his self-possession, has already half 
won the victory ; and verily, man can do a great deal ; 
by firm determination and constant care he can cfiJect 



2l8 E^ANIMirr OF MIND. 

a change in himself that is truly astonishing. The 
soul, which, in ordinary men and women, is m.ade the 
slave of the body, may, by the exercise of its power, 
effect beneficial changes even in the natural tendencies 
and capacities of the physical being. 

He who can govern himself, is capable of governing 
others also. A mind, the happy serenity of which 
can never be overclouded by any outward occurrence, 
is always better able to judge correctly the acts of 
others and the end to which things are leading. He 
who possesses such a mind deserves the name of sage, 
and his equanimity inspires respect, and often awakens 
admiration ; on the contrary, a capricious mind, the 
balance of v/hich is easily upset, is wavering in its 
judgments as well as its actions, contradicts itself, 
loses its self-respect, and, as a just and natural conse- 
quence, also the respect of others. It never sees the 
world in a true light, but sometimes in the flattering 
colours of its own imagination, at others enveloped 
in the dark mists of its own dejection. 

Therefore learn to control thyself ! Refrain from 
action as long as thy feelings are over-excited; speak 
not, or at least weigh well thy words before speaking, 
when joy or grief, fear or anger, threaten to over- 
whelm thee. He who retains a serene mind disarms 
even the most embittered enemy by the dignity and 
calmness of his demeanour, and as he runs no risk of 
exposing his weak points in his impetuosity, he has 
no fear of being wounded. A temperate man plucks 
the rose of joy with wise caution ; the impetuous 
man plucks it without thinking of its thorns, and the 
smart of his wounds thus soon embitters the pleasure 
he souo;ht to secui-e. Beware not to form resolutions 



E^ANlMirr OF MIND. 2 1 9 

in the heat of passion, nor plans during the intoxica- 
tion of pleasure. With returning soberness comes 
repentance. Let not all the warnings received in life 
prove vain. 

When thou discoverest a change coming over thy 
feelings, and perceivest the swell of indignation or of 
wrath rising in thy heart, or that melancholy is veiling 
thy soul in darkness, or that thy joy is becoming un- 
controllable, seek to divert thy mind ! Go into some 
other place. The change in the surrounding objects 
will call forth new images, will awaken other thoughts 
and feelings ; the balance of thy mind will be re-esta- 
blished, and thou wilt remain lord of thyself, and 
independent of the external things of the world, while 
thy inward contentment will continue undisturbed, 
and thou wilt have spared thyself a blush of shame 
and a pang of repentance. 

But this equanimity, which is an object of desire to 
every Christian, to every truly wise man, must not be 
a mere outward semblance, must not only consist in 
the power exercised over the expression of thy coun- 
tenance and over thy gestures : it must dwell in thy 
soul. Christian equanimity does not consist in the 
art of concealing our feelings in the presence of 
others ; in the art of smiling while the heart is burst- 
ing with suppressed passion ; nay, Christianity is 
something more than mere worldly wisdom, it is deep 
and soul-animating truth. The bright glance of the 
eye is not to be an effect of art, but the expression of 
a serene soul. 

Indeed, what would such pretence avail thee ? 
Thou mightest perhaps impose upon others, but in 
so doing thou wouidst deceive thyself even more* 



220 E^ANIMirr OF MIND, 

Thou wouldst cheat thyself of peace of mind, of 
health and purity of soul. Even thy very hope of 
being able to deceive others is a self-delusion, for 
they v^ill soon discover thy artfulness when they 
perceive v^hat contradiction there is between thy 
actions and thy apparent placidity ; and the more 
cause there is for distrusting thy soft words and 
gentle looks, the more hated and despised thou wilt 
be. Shouldst thou ever be guilty of an unjust act, 
the world will not fail to place thee in the rank of 
cold-hearted villains, of hypocritical sinners, or of 
untrustworthy flatterers. 

Be pure, be truthful, be simple, and never appear 
before the world, nor before thyself, in a double cha- 
racter. Control not only thy words and thy gestures: 
be master of thine own heart ! If the acts of men 
seem revolting to thee, and thou feelest thy equani- 
mity giving way, seek to divert thy thoughts.- Recall 
to mind that men are not radically bad or malignant, 
but erring beings. They err from want of insight ; 
they err in their judgments of thee ; they err in regard 
to what they consider good and useful ; and they err 
in their choice of means to an end. Why then wilt 
thou give way to indignation at what is merely a 
fault of the understanding ? Had they more know- 
ledge, had they been better trained in youth, both 
their judgments and their actions would have been 
different. They err also from weakness of character, 
because they have not strength of mind enough to 
control their sensual instincts. Thy anger, thy in- 
dignation, or thy dejection, can neither alter thesi 
nor the consequences of their acts. Be a man then ! 
Collect thyself, and endeavour by some means or 



E^ANIMirr OF MIND, 221 

Other to rectify or to modify the evil they have done. 
Try to remove from thy sphere of action any one 
who may be dangerous to thee by stirring up thy ire, 
or seek to avoid him. 

If a dark mood come over thee, and thou art 
troubled with fears and anxieties, try to divert thy 
mind. Reflect that the victory is to the brave, and 
that the timid are already half-defeated. Reflect that 
calm self-possession enables us to master all circum- 
stances, whereas a dejected mind^ conjures up mists 
and fancies that blind its sight. Reflect that just 
because thou art now depressed, more cheerful hours 
must be in store for thee. For such is the decree 
of an all-ruling Providence, which has ordained the 
eternal mutation of things, that every sorrow, every 
disagreeable event, is the forerunner of some joy 
or some happy occurrence. 

But endeavour in like* manner to possess thyself 
in gladness, and never in the intoxication of pleasure 
forget thy higher being. Enjoy v/ith moderation. 
Remember in the midst of thy happiness, that deep 
shadows may soon obscure the light — that laughter 
may soon be followed by tears ! Never allow thyself 
to be enervated by prosperity, and thou wilt bear with 
the greater courage the vexations which thou mayst 
have to encounter within the next few days. 

He who possesses this truly Christian strength of 
soul, who walks through life armed with this equa- 
nimity of mind, will always observe the golden mean, 
and will neither be dazzled by the happiness which he 
possesses, nor morbidly pine for that which he cannot 
obtain ; and will hold light the evils with which he is 
threatened, and rise calmly above those which have 



222 E^ANIMirr OF MIND. 

already befallen him. He walks before God — he 
walks in the footsteps of Jesus — and he passes 
through the chequered sunshine and shade of this life 
with unalterable serenity and cheerfulness. He gives 
and receives love ; he dispenses joy and he reaps joy. 
He soon forgets what has given him pain, but nobly 
remembers what has done him good ! 



ANXIETY ABOUT THE FUTURE. 

O weary soul, ascend to God, 
Before his throne lay down thy load : 
He knows thy pain : lay bare each smart, 
Still trusting in a Father's heart. 

Grief, fear of future care, away ! 
Beyond my night shines morning's ray, 
When free from tears mine eyes shall see 
Him whom I trust — my Saviour — Thee ! 

Must I long years my yoke still bear? 
No J even then I'll not despair j 
No earthly pain endures for ever ; 
God's mercy only endeth never. 

(Hebrew^ xiii. 5.) 

What win become of me in the future ? How many 
days of trouble and sorrow are still in store for me ? 
Will my anxieties never cease — my cares never come 
to an end ? Must my life be a constant struggle, and 
shall I never be able to look forward with hope, like 
my fellow-men r Why am I doomed to so m^uch 
suffering ; why is it my fate that no sooner have I 
extricated myself from one misfortune than I sink 
into another ? O my God, hast Thou abandoned 
me ? Hast Thou no joys in store for me ? Are my 
most ardent wishes never to be fulfilled ? 

Such are the lamentations sighed forth by those 
who, sunk in misfortune, gaze out upon the dark 
future with tearful eyes. Such are the complaints 
which rise from my troubled soul when depressed 



224 ANXIETY ABOUT THE FUTURE. 

by many cares. It longs for rest. It yearns for 
the sweet peace which is the reward of uprightness 
and fidelity to duty, of useful activity and pleasant 
intercourse with fellow-beings. But my future is 
dark and gloomy. I hope for light, but none appears. 
Alas ! so many misfortunes may befall me, that no 
human wisdom can forestal, no human power avert. 
And I may succumb under these. 

I do not ask for riches or superfluity, but only to 
be free from pressing cares : only to have some 
security for the future, only to be able to provide 
for those v/ho belong to me. In vain has been the 
good that I have endeavoured to do to all around 
me. A^Iy acts of kindness seem forgotten. No one 
remembers me. No one holds out to me the helping 
hand of brotherhood. Every one is engaged with 
his own pleasures, while I have to struggle pain- 
fully for the merest necessities, and, alas ! the most 
depressing of all is that I see no end to these secret 
sufferings, which I venture to confide to God only. 

I ponder on the means of escape from my diiHcuI- 
ties, but I know not where to find them. I seek with 
dimmed eyes a path which may lead out of them — but 
there is no one to point it out to me. I have no friend, 
nay, not one, who lives for me, who could or would 
help, not one who would care to fulfil the wishes 
of my heart. I dare not ask assistance from others^ 
for I could never return or reward the services re- 
ceived. I do not venture to lay open to any one the 
secret and bleeding wounds of my heart, or to dis- 
close the wretchedness v/hich I conceal from the 
world under a forced smile. Indeed, I should gain 
little by so doing, and perhaps lose many acquaint- 



ANXlErr ABOUT THE FUTURE. 225 

ances, who still cling to me, because my misery is 
unknown to them. P'or such are men ; they promise 
love, friendship, fideHty, as long as they have any- 
thing to hope for in return. They are most zealous 
in rendering services, as long as they think they may 
be served in like manner. To the rich they give 
largely in briUiant festivities, and in other ways, but 
to the unfortunate they are hardly willing even to 
tender alms. 

Ah, I should bear my fate courageously could 
I but know that in a year, or in any given time, it 
would be improved ; did I but know that some 
small portion only of my wishes in regard to my- 
self and to those dear to me would be fulfilled. But 
who can unveil the mysteries of the coming days ? 
The past has become to me a dark abyss ; the 
present a barren waste ; and the future a starless 
night, all darkness and gloSm. 

I stand alone, abandoned by all. From others 
I can expect no help. I am thrown entirely upon 
my own weak powers. There is no one who can 
bring me comfort and peace, for there is no one 
who can penetrate the secret of future events. Alas ! 
who can be poorer on earth than he who lacks even 
hope in a better state of things, and who can find no 
consolation ? 

But stay ! So poor thou art not yet, my heart. 
So poor no Christian can ever be. Why dost thou 
despair? There is one comforter who holds out the 
hand of kindness, there is one comforter who will shed 
light through the darkness that surrounds thee, and 
who will kindle anew the star of hope. This com- 
forter is Religion. 



2 26 ANXIErr ABOUr THE FUTURE. 

Yes, the religion of Jesus, and none other, assuages 
the mental sufferings of us poor mortals, enabling us 
to meet v/ith armed breast the threatenings of fate. 
It lights up the dark path of life with the torch of 
wisdom, and quickens our trust, makes our faith 
mighty to bear and resist, and our power truly strong. 
In the depths of my woe I hear a holy voice 
sounding from afar. With wonderfully-refreshing 
power it penetrates through my heart, and my spirit, 
endowed with new life, rises up to meet it. I hear a 
Divine voice calling to my soul — a voice that has 
sounded through all tim.e to the entire race of man. 
It is the voice of God, which saith : " I will not leave 
thee, nor forsake thee ! " (Hebrews xiii. 5.) 

O sweet comfort of faith, sweet balm of religion, 
that heals the bleeding wounds, that v/ipes the tears 
from the weeping eyes, that silences all complainings ! 
Though all men leave me, God will not leave me ! 
And though the earth m.ay forsake me, Heaven will 
not forsake me. I stand alone, yet not unsupported ; 
I have revealed my secret sufferings to no one, yet 
there is One who knows them. No man has seen 
the tears v/hich I have shed in the solitude of night, 
no man has heard the sighs which my misery has 
forced from my oppressed bosom, and yet these tears 
and these sighs have been numbered. 

Take courage for the future ! Commend thy ways 
to the Lord, and trust in Him ! He v/ill take care of 
thee ! 

Be of good cheer ! Honour the wisdom of God, 
honour the ways of Providence, which thou canst not 
change, and which v/ork out the v/ell-being of the 
world, and the welfare of individual men, however 



ANXIErr ABOUT THE FUTURE, 227 

much they may themselves strive against it. Why 
dost thou despond ? Hast thou not the promise of 
God, the v/ord of the Immutable, that He will not 
leave thee ? He v/ill not forsake thee ! 

Thou art full of anxiet}^ as to the future. Thou 
fearest lest worse things even should be in store for 
thee than those which have already befallen thee. 
Thou art afraid that all the happiness thou art des- 
tined to enjoy may already have come to an end, and 
that the rest of thy days may be one chain of mis- 
fortunes extending to thy grave. O m.an of little 
faith ! Who is it then that hath promised that He 
v/ill never leave thee, that He will never forsake 
thee ? 

Thou wouldst fain know the future, know whether 
this one of thy wishes or that \V\\\ be fulfilled r Well, 
then, I vv^ill reveal to thee in general what will be thy 
fate in the future. Instead of straining thine eyes to 
penetrate into the depths of the time to come, turn 
them back upon the past and upon thy hfe during 
that period; for know, the past is the mirror of the 
future* 

That which thou hast already experienced thou wilt 
again experience, though under different circumstances 
and conditions. Wert thou ever in days past unceas- 
ingly miserable and unhappy ? No, nor wilt thou be 
so now, or in future. Pleasures are in store for thee, 
even where thou foreseest nought but pain and trouble. 
A rose will bloom for thee here and there in days to 
com.e, where now thou canst see nothing but thorns. 
Say not : But time flies, my days go by, I am grow- 
ing older. For if time flies, thy moments of suffering 
pass away with it ; nothing remains or can remain 

Q 2 



228 ANXIErr ABOUT THE FUTURE. 

exactly as it is ; but each year, each age, has its own 
peculiar advantages and enjoyments. Many a happy 
moment, many a small reward of industry, many a 
compensation for trouble and vexation, which thou 
hast never anticipated, will still be thine. Life passes 
away, it is true ; but not so God's Providence, and 
this watches over thee, and will not leave thee, will 
not forsake thee. 

The past is the mirror of the future. The same 
God who has hitherto guided thee through so many 
events, v/ill be with thee henceforth also, and will be 
thy support. Thou art perhaps at this moment in a 
precarious position. Difficulties beset thee on all 
sides. Thy brightest prospects have been overclouded, 
and thy best hopes have been disappointed. But re- 
member what has happened before ; canst thou not 
recall to mind how often thou wert sunk in despon- 
dency ? Canst thou no longer recollect how at times 
thou wert completely dissolved in grief? How en- 
tirely thou hadst given up all hopes of better things ? 
Hast thou forgotten days which thou wouldst fain 
have converted into long nights, that thou mightst 
sleep away the consciousness of thy misery ? But 
these have gone by ; thou hast been very happy since 
then, hast enjoyed many pleasant hours, and canst now 
smile at thy former despondency. Well then, take 
courage for the future also. A time will come when 
thou wilt almost have forgotten thy present difficulties, 
and thou wilt look back with shame at the discourage- 
ment and depression under which thou art now la- 
bouring. 

How often didst thou not think that no one could 
save thee, that no one could help thee ! And a few 



ANXIErr ABOUT THE FUTURE. 



229 



days or weeks went by ; the invisible hand of Provi- 
dence ruled over thee the while, circumstances altered 
imperceptibly, benefactors known to thee, or perhaps 
philanthropists never before heard of by thee, came 
forward to assist thee, because God had touched their 
hearts ; persons of whom thou hadst never thought, 
became thy friends ; proposals were made to thee 
which thou wouldst never have dreamt of thyself, and 
which thou couldst never have expected; various little 
events, quite unlooked-for, drew thee out of thy pain- 
ful position, and it was as if the sun came out slowly 
from the dispersing clouds, which until then had shed 
gloom around thee. See, God had not left thee, nor 
forsaken thee. He is faithful beyond all others, and 
His promises never fail. He who has been so kind 
to thee in the past, will be equally so to thy dear ones 
in the future. He will be so to the whole human race, 
and to every individual child of man, in thousands of 
years to come as in the present day. 

The unfortunate are naturally superstitious. All 
ordinary means of extricating themselves from their 
diiBculties seeming closed to them^ they would fain 
penetrate into the realm of the unknown by the help 
of mao;ic, and extort its secrets from the silent future. 
They are not ashamed of making the most irrational 
attempts to accomplish this object, though their reason 
cannot fail to reprove them. They have recourse to 
fortune-telling ; they endeavour to extract knowledge 
from the accidental play of things 'which have no 
connexion whatsoever with their life and fortunes. 
They consult all kinds of signs, and draw thence 
conclusions as to the fulfilment or non-fulfilment of 
their wishes. They delude themselves, frequently 






230 ANXIETT ABOUT THE FUTURE, 

even consciously, and corrupt their hearts and their 
understandings by their folly. 

Never degrade thyself by a belief in fortune-telling, 
and the interpretation of signs. Wb^en thou losest 
thy faith in God's wisdom, and Flis fatherly love, thou 
losest thyself. Reason protests against thy giving 
thyself up to self-delusion in this contemptible wzy ; 
for the false hopes which are grounded on these 
supposed prognostics of what is to come to pass, 
frequently lead to mistaken and foolish acts, which, 
instead of securing happiness, on the contrary destroy 
all hope of it. The word of God seriously forbids 
all irrational endeavours to look into the future ; and 
the will of the Almighty cannot be set aside by such 
futilities, nor His laws be broken. And it is the will 
of God, and the Divine law of the world, that the 
future shall be hidden from the sight of man. God 
has so ordained it with loving-kindness, that we may, 
trusting in Him, and without thought of the trials 
that may be in store for us, accept and enjoy the 
present moment, and that, leaving all else to Him, 
we may hold fast by His invisible hand, which will 
lead us through the darkness. ^' Take, therefore, no 
thought for the morrow," saith Jesus, with benevo- 
lent wisdom; "Take no thought for the morrow, 
for the morrow shall take thought for the things of 
itself." (Matt. vi. 34.) 

Anxiety about the future cannot be relieved by 
such superstitious delusions as I have alluded to, but 
only by faith in the all-ruling hand of Providence, 
which ordaineth all things for the best ; and by thine 
own prudent endeavours to remedy of diminish the 
evils under which thou art suffering. Put thy 



m 



iir 



ANXIE'TT ABOUr THE FUTURE. 23 1 

shoulder to the wheel, and help to promote thine 
own well-being. 

First, reflect maturely in solitude on the present 
state of thy circumstances. But let it be wheo thou 
art capable of seeking out and examining with perfect 
calmness all the sources of thy misfortunes. 

Thou wilt then find, either that thou has brought 
them on thyself by imprudence, by some fault, or by 
thy passionate temperament, or else that they have 
been caused by circumstances over which thou hadst 
no control whatever. 

If thou findest that thou art not thyself to blame, 
then there is so much the less reason to despair of 
being able to improve thy condition, for thou art then 
suffering innocently, and God is the friend and pro- 
tector of the innocent. What thou losest on one 
side. He will give thee compensation for on the 
other side. For every pdng that thou sufferest here, 
a joy will be held in store for the eelsewhere. Even 
thy losses, thy afflictions, will, if thou usest them 
with true wisdom, prove to be no real loss, no real 
calamity. It is only thy want of courage, and thy 
self-will, that convert them into such. They ought 
to be no more than an exercise for thy greatness of 
soul, and a test of thy faith. Gold is purified in 
the fire. The strength of virtue is tested in the 
storm.s of life. Nobility of mind can never be re- 
vealed in its full purity and glory, until all supports 
fail, and the mind has nothing to uphold it but its 
own strength. Perhaps long repose and happiness 
have enervated thee. Now the time has come when 
matters do not proceed according to thy v/ishes. In- 
stead of weeping and lamenting like a spoilt and self- 



232 ANXlErr ABOUT THE FUTURE. 

willed child, or obstinately persisting in the course 
which circumstances condemn, rise up like a man, 
and with calm wisdom order everything for the best. 
Thou hast lost nothing as long as thou hast not lost 
thyself; thou art not forsaken, as long as faith in the 
support of God has not abandoned thee. 

If thou hast been impoverished, or thy worldly 
prospects are threatened with ruin, and thou foreseest 
straitened circumstances for thyself and thy dear 
ones in the future — there is one means by which thou 
mayst suddenly again acquire competence : — learn to 
bear privations with manly fortitude. Be proud of 
this poverty, in respect to which no blame can be 
attached to thee. A well-stored and noble mind 
can afford to laugh at such accidental revolutions of 
fortune. Do thv best for thee and thine, and God 
will work with thee ! He will not leave thee, neither 
will He forsake thee. Renounce the proud wishes 
and extensive plans in which thou hast hitherto in- 
dulged. It is not money, but his own heart, that 
makes a man rich. It is not poverty, but only crime, 
that entails shame. 

If thou hast lost friends, and those even dearer than 
friends — if thou hast been deceived and betrayed by 
men — if thou art surrounded by envy and calumny — 
thou h2St only lost what could not remain thine for 
ever ; wherefore then pine for that which even thine 
own reason refuses to grant thee ? As for those 
that have treacherously deceived thee, be proud that 
thou hast no share in their infamy ; in the midst of 
thy misfortunes thou must be an object of respect 
to them, in so far as thou hast acted more nobly than 
they. That the envious envy thee, why should that 



ANXIErr ABOUT THE FUTURE, 233 

distress thee r — Wasps ever swarm round the best 
fruit ; let that in thee which awakens envy, be thy 
consolation when thou art offended by evil-minded 
persons. 

But if thou art the author of thine own misfortunes, 
against whom dost thou raise complaints ? Why dost 
thou rest contended with lamenting ? Why dost thou 
sigh forth : " What is to become of me ? " Thou 
seest what has become of thee, and what is further to 
befall thee is in the hand of God. The evils that are 
now weighing upon thee are the punishment of thine 
own follies and sins. Do not augment thy guilt by 
injurious despondency. 

Thou hast fallen : well then, make speed to rise 
again, and be sure that the hands with which thou 
hast destroyed thy happiness can build it up again. 
Let true Christian uprightness be thy support, and 
the teachings of Jesus be*thy guide. Thy sins have 
brought the curse upon thee ; Christian magnanimity 
and Christian wisdom will bring the blessing back into 
thy house. If thou hast but the courage to be happy 
thou wilt not fail to be so. Turn towards the grace 
of God, and it will again shine upon thee. Follow 
the footsteps of Jesus, and thou wilt have entered the 
path of that peace and contentment of mind which 
are independent of all outward things ; thou wilt 
have chosen the better part ! Thou v/ilt again be- 
long to God, and He will not leave thee, neither will 
He forsake thee. 

Well then, my soul, take courage ! Be without 
fear for the coming days, God will count them out to 
thee. Arm thyself against every ill-fortune that may 



234 ANXIETT ABOUT THE FU'JURE. 

assail thee, with the courage and resignation of Christ. 
Let not thy magnanimity be overwhelmed, whatever 
may be the misfortunes that befall thee, and thou wilt 
have saved everything ; learn to bear privation, and 
poverty will be unknown to thee ; renounce thy am- 
bitious and self-v/illed desires as idle fancies, and thou 
wilt have nothing to fear but everything to hope from 
the future. 

I am comforted, I feel at rest in Thee, O my God. 
I will resolutely encounter my fate ; I will await with 
unflinching courage whatever may befall me, for 
Thou, O Father, who ordainest everything for the 
best. Thou, O my Maker, Thou wilt not leave me. 
Thou wilt not forsake me. Resigned to Thy will, I 
renounce without a murmur all that I have lost, I re- 
nounce my wishes for the future, and my ambitious 
projects ; for I know that that cannot be good for me, 
which Thou, the All-wise, withholdest from' me. I 
will rely on Thy help, without fear or anxiety for 
myself or for those w^ho belong to me ; I will trust 
to Thy inclining towards me the hearts of those that 
surround m.e, or to Thy turning wonderfully in my 
favour the circumstances that now threaten to crush 
me. My God, I know Thy Fatherly love, I have 
experienced it. How often in bygone times has not 
one moment sufliced to disperse the gloom that 
surrounded me ! 

I pray not for happiness, but for strength and 
courage, and that Thy Holy Spirit may never forsake 
me, and that the example of Jesus may ever be before 
me ! I will deny myself, as He denied Himself; I 
will drain my bitter cup of sorrow with the same 



ANXIE'TT ABOUT THE FUTURE. 235 

holy resignation in Thy will, O Father, as He drained 
His, and I shall triumph over the ills of these days as 
He gloriously triumphed over evil, and I shall feel 
even in the midst of my tears and sufferings, as Jesus 
felt in Kis agony, that Thou art the Ail-merciful and 
the Ever-faithful God, that Thou wilt not leave m^e, 
and wilt not forsake me. Father, who art in Heaven, 
my soul places its hope in Thee ! Amen. 



UNMERITED SUFFERING. 

He, the Wise, the Everlasting, 

Giveth heed. 

Knows each neeo 
As through the world I'm hasting. 
Shall my Saviour e'er forget me? 

His the will 

ni fulfil. 
My measure He hath set me. 

Birds that through the air are flitting, 

Beasts that rove, 

'Tis His love 
Finds food and pasture fitting. 
Gives He not each lovely flower 

Colours bright, 

By the might 
Of His Grace and Power? 

Shall He, me alone forsaking, 

Leave to bear. 

All my care, 
His presence from me taking ? 
His 1 am in faith revering 5 

Fatherly 

Loves He me. • 

ril trust his love, unfearing. 

(Hebrews xii. 11.) 

Shall not the heart of man grieve, when it is made to 
suffer without hope, when it is doomed to lose all that 
has become dear to it through long possession, all 
that has rendered life sweet ? Who can command 
his eyes not to weep in bitter sorrow ? Who can 
stay the bleeding of a fresh wound ? In vain is the 
consolation ye may offer to the sufferers, ye happy 
ones. Ye can give naught but words. Ye have 



UNMERITED SUFFERING. 2^7 

the sympathetic understanding, but they, the deeply 
oppressed, have the bleeding heart. Alas ! give them 
not words, but give them back the happiness they 
have lost, and then perhaps they will thank you, for 
then vou will have given true comfort. 

Has not God Himself bestowed upon us all an 
equal right to the enjoyment of the few pleasures 
which life affords ? Why then are thousands of men 
happy, while I alone among these thousands have my 
heart filled with grief and care ? The sight of what 
ye possess, ye fortunate ones, only adds to my regret 
for that which I have lost. Or have I deserved to 
be less favoured than you, than thousands of others ? 
Have I been more vicious, am I more guilty than 
thousands of those that surround me ? Has not God 
Himself planted in my bosom a heart susceptible of 
every joy ? Why should He have made me thus 
susceptible for that whicH' after all was destined to 
make me miserable? Why should I be made to 
cling with love to that which is to be painfully 
wrested from me ? Why have I this sense of all 
that is good and beautiful, if it is to be converted 
into a new source of suffering ? Would it not be 
better for me, were I unfeeling as a rock ? I should 
indeed have fewer joys, but I should not miss them, 
as they would be unknown to me ; and I should, on 
the other hand, be spared all suffering. 

Is not the desire for enjoyment the first that is 
awakened in the infant ? And the desire o-rows and 
ripens with the ripening years of the child. It is 
present in its full development far sooner than under- 
standing, experience and reflection. Enjoyment be- 
com*es a necessity to man, and when it has become 






238 UNMERITED SUFFERING. 

SO5 you demand of him that he should renounce it. 
Why should I be so cruelly deprived of that for which 
the Creator has given me an instinctive craving ? 

You would fain comfort the sorrowful. They 
know all that you would say, but your reasonings 
do not satisfy them. If they have lost their happi- 
ness by their own fault, well then, they must settle 
matters with themselves, and thc-y must reproach 
themselves alone. But how is it with those who, 
without any fault of their own, have suffered ship- 
wreck of everything that constituted the happiness 
of their lives ? With those whose domestic peace 
has been destroyed by heartless villains ? Whose 
material prosperity has been blighted by the calami- 
ties of war, which has reduced them, to beggary, 
and made them, besides, widows and orphans, or who 
have been deprived of their social position and the 
means of subsistence by some sudden revolution ? 
Who have lost by the hand of death those to whom 
thev clung; with fondest affection ? Who have been 
robbed of the esteem of their fellow-citizens and their 
daily companions, by the evil tongues of base slan- 
derers ? Who are crushed under the weight of 
events v/hich no mortal could foresee ? 

Hold ! O wretched sufferer ! Thy sorrow may be 
great and legitimate, but not so thy lamentations. 
Pain, like pleasure, is a fruit cf the earthly part of thy 
being, but the view thou takest of it ought to be the 
fruit of thy elevated spirit. Thou canst not prevent 
thy tears from flowing, or thy wounds from bleeding j 
but thou mayst prevent thy spirit from becoming un- 
worthy of itself, and from sinking under the burden. 
The strength of a wise mind consists herein, that it 



UNMERITED SUFFERING. 239 

first reflects that v/hat has taken place cannot be altered 
—that God wills it so ; and next, that from the great 
misfortune a much greater good may be drawn 3 for 
Providence has not ordained that w^hich has taken 
place without a purpose. 

But if thou art so entirely absorbed in thy earthly, 
half-animal being, that thou canst not, hke a divine 
man, soar up to higher sentiments, then thou deservesc 
to be overwhelmed by thy misery like the animals, 
which cannot by greatness of soul rise above the pains 
that afflict them. Thou choosest to make thyself even 
more miserable than thou art through the outward 
misfortunes that have fallen upon thee ; for thou 
deprivest thyself of the power to derive from misfor- 
tune that higher and lasting happiness, which may be 
drawn from it, Hke the sweet kernel from the bitter 
shell. " No chastening for the present seemeth to be 
joyous, but grievous : nevertheless afterward it yieldeth 
the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which 
are exercised thereby." (Heb. xii. 11.) 

Fie who refuses to be comforted unless his lost 
happiness be restored to him in its old form, thereby 
intimates that he considers that his own wisdom ex- 
ceeds that of Divine Providence ; for the wisdom of 
Providence took away from him that which he pos- 
sessed, in order that in the calamitous hour which saw 
the wreck of all his earthly happiness, he might be led 
from this life up into a higher state of being ; it was 
the wisdom of Providence that was teaching him in 
that dread hour, what is man and all that belongs to 
him, in order that he might be drawn nearer to God 
and to all that is divine. It was the wisdom of Provi- 
dence that showed him that happiness and unhappi- 



240 UNMERITED SUFFERING. 

ness, and the whole play of earthly life, is but a dream 
given to train the soul, and which showed him this 
in order to lift him up to a higher stand-point, whence 
he might be better able to judge of the nothingness of 
everything under the sun, and that he might be in- 
duced to devote his spirit to that which is imperishable 
like itself. 

Every creature on earth has been endowed by God 
with the right to joy or happiness ; he has given it to 
the tiniest insect, whose life scarce endures from sun- 
rise to sunset. And to all those to whom he gave the 
right he has also given the pov/er of enjoyment. But 
Divine Wisdom ordained that light should be accom- 
panied by shadow, and that each joy should have its 
corresponding pain, in order that mortal man might 
ever be reminded that the transient pleasures of life 
ought not to be his highest object, because there is 
something higher still. But light and shade, joy and 
pain have been partitioned among men with the most 
wonderful exactness and impartiality, so that each 
mortal should receive an equal share. It is, there- 
fore, difficult to say who is the happier or the less 
happy. He who is most sensitive to joy, at the same 
time feels sorrow the more keenly. What appears of 
great value to one person, and throws him into ecsta- 
sies of delight, is a matter of complete indifference 
to another. Therefore we are liable to err greatly 
if we judge of the felicity of men by their outward 
circumstances only. That for which one man envies 
^ another, is perhaps to him that possesses it a real 

burden, the source of all his sufferings. 

The true sage, the true Christian, however, must 
enjoy a higher amount o^' inward happiness than 



^. 



UNMERITED SUFFERING. 24 1 

Others. But this happiness is the result not so much 
of the outward good that he possesses, as of the cor- 
rect estimate which he forms of them, and of his 
never allowing them to be the foundation of his con- 
tentment. Persons whose naturaLbluntness of feel- 
ing prevents them from being very painfully affected 
by misfortune, have indeed so far an advantage over 
those who are more keenly sensitive, and who are 
almost driven to despair when calamities befall them. 
But this advantage is again counterbalanced by the 
fact" that the less impressionable minds are less sus- 
ceptible of happiness. Therefore, the more deeply 
depressed thou mayst feel, with the greater certainty 
mayst thou look forward to being raised up again 
by the hand of Providence. The m.ore heartrending 
thy sorrow, the more intense will be thy joy. 

God has endowed thee with a more susceptible 
heart, not only that thou rrfayst enjoy the pleasures of 
life the more fully, but also that thou mayst feel the 
pains of existence the more keenly, and that thy 
spirit may thereby receive a stronger impulse to soar 
upwards. He who has a less excitable temperament 
is able to act with greater prudence and self-posses- 
sion, whether it be in joy or sorrow. He who is 
carried away by the vivacity of his feelings, requires 
greater power to enable him to rise above them ; but 
when he accomplishes this, then also he enjoys true 
happiness in fuller draughts. 

Undoubtedly the desire for enjoyment and well- 
being is innate in the child, and it grows and ripens 
with his growth, and the striving after happiness 
becomes a necessity of man's life. Thou askest : 
Why should we learn to renounce without a pang 

R 



242 UNMERITED SUFFERING. 

that which the Creator has taught us to love ? But 
does He not also teach the babe in the cradle to 
renounce what it likes best ? Has the child not 
his tears as the old man has his ? Is not the longest 
life as well as the shortest, from the cradle to the 
grave, one unceasing lesson in the eternal truth — 
that on earth no pleasure, as no pain, is enduring ; 
that our path lies between the two, in order that 
we may learn by their constant changes to hold 
both equally light ; that, by perceiving that neither 
can afford us true satisfaction, we may be led to 
the conviction that our spirits must be born for a 
far higher purpose than to be the toys of the varying 
play of earthly accidents, and that true happiness 
must consist in far more noble enjoyments than such 
as our earthly career affords ? But where shall we 
seek for these higher enjoyments, for that unalterable 
cheerfulness and tranquillity of mind, if they are not 
to be derived from the circumstances amid which our 
lot is cast ? We must learn to find them in our- 
selves, in our religious relations to the universe, to 
the world of spirits, to life here and in eternity, to 
Christ, and to our Father in Heaven. We must 
find them in our conviction of the unutterable wis- 
dom and goodness of God, who governs all things ; 
we must find them in the strict fulfilment of all our 
duties in fife, in the exercise of every virtue of which 
man is capable. The sublime self-consciousness of 
virtue and innocence is the only source of true, and 
pure, and lasting happiness. 

It is, therefore, a great mistake to suppose that it 
is easier to find consolation for sufferings brought on 
hy our ov/n fault than for such as we have not merited. 



UNMERirED SUFFERING, 243 

Know that there is no more dreadful evil on earth than 
that which forces man to turn against himself with 
hatred and contempt. 

He whose loved ones are snatched from him by the 
hand of death, or whose worldly prospects are injured 
by war, or by the slackness of business, or who is 
deprived of the world's esteem by the machinations of 
some malignant fellow^being, — he has lost much, but 
his self-respect he retains, and with this a feeling 
of holy pride in not having merited, his adverse fate. 
He is refreshed by the tear of pity shed for him hy 
strangers, for though it brings no help, he recognizes 
therein the love of others. His poverty, his abandon- 
ment, becomes to him a triumph as it were, and the 
more so, the less he has contributed to his misfortunes 
by any fault or imprudence of his own. He says to 
himself with inward calm : ^^ It is the will of God." 
" No chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, 
but grievous : nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the 
peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are 
exercised thereby." The outer man may bend under 
the weight of his misfortunes, but the inner man will 
only rise up stronger and nobler than ever, for he will 
at last have ceased to tremble at fate, he will have 
learnt to realize that God is with him. 

In common life we generally feel more tender pity 
for those who are suffering v/ithout any fault of their 
own, and less for those who have brought down mis- 
fortunes upon themselves. And the cause is a very 
natural one. In the one case our pity is mixed with 
love, in the other with contempt and reproaches. Our 
judgments generally take a judicial form, and pro- 
nounce suffering merited when it seems to us to be 

R 2 



244 UNMERITED SUFFERING. 

the just punishment of some great mistake or some 
evil action ; whereas we are deeply pained at the suf- 
ferings of those who, if fortune or misfortune were 
really always meted out as reward or punishment, 
would have merited a better fate. But if our pity 
varied in proportion to the real misery of our fellow- 
beings, we should certainly pity those the most who 
are suffering by their own fault. They must always 
be the truly unhappy ones. 

For, in addition to their outward sufferings, they 
are tortured by an inward pain, the pang of an evil 
conscience, which the innocent can never know. 
Those who are the cause of their own misery have 
lost, as regards the outward world, what they much 
cherished ; but not this alone — with a clear con- 
science they could easily bear that — they have lost 
their inward worth, their better selves as it were, 
and no pain can exceed this. They cannot look 
upon their sufferings as a triumph, but must regard 
them as the punishment of their own unworthiness ; 
they cannot rise magnanimously above their trials, 
but can only impudently and shamelessly feign con- 
tempt for them. This forced indifference, however, 
adds to their misery. In every fellow-man, whom 
they have reason to suppose is acquainted with their 
condition, they behold a judge, who pronounces that 
which is crushing them to the earth to be a righteous 
judgment upon them ; and even the pity of their 
fellow-beings brings no consolation with it, for an 
inward voice is always repeating, I have deserved 
my fate, I might have been happier had I been more 
worthy. Even the kindness of heart evinced in the 
sympathy of their friends, frequently gives additional 



UNMERITED SUFFERING, 245 

poignancy to their grief, because it reminds them of 
how much better the friends are than themselves, 
or they feel that the pity shown is not so much due 
to their outward misfortunes as to the mistakes of 
their heart and their understanding. 

Therefore rise up, O suffering and dejected soul ; 
let it be thy pride that thy misfortunes are not the 
fruits of thy ov/n transgressions. Thy misery is 
God's doing ; thou couldst do nought to ward it off. 
Therefore take courage, for in good time God will 
again relieve thee of thy burden. He is mighty to 
help, and He will cause a blessing to spring from that 
which thou now deemest an inexhaustible source 
of sorrow. 

He will not leave thee, nor forsake thee. That 
which is truly good He has never withdrawn from 
thee. But take heed that thou dost not leave God, 
that thou dost not forsake Him ! Cling to Him and 
He will hold thee up with His strong arm. Attach 
no undue importance to the earthly things that thou 
hast lost, and thou wilt perceive how much of inward 
happiness still remains to thee. The dreadful day of 
thy misfortune was meant to be the commencement 
of thy inward glorification. For the earthly and 
transient things to which thou didst cling too fondly, 
were stripped from thee in order to prove how little 
enduring are all things here below. In like manner 
thy earthly covering will be stripped from thee on 
the day of thy death, that thy glorification may be 
complete. But begin this glorification now already, 
that the angel of death may find something to com- 
plete. Sanctify thy heart with honesty, truth, cou- 
rage, love of thy fellow-men, and with every heavenly 



246 UNMERirED SUFFERING. 

virtue. Throw ofF the faults that hinder thy growth 
in goodness ; become a child of God, and no evil can 
touch thee, for the Almighty, the Lord of Heaven 
and earth, will be thy Father. 

He is thy Father even now, and for all the earthly 
goods that thou hast lost He will give thy immortal 
spirit heavenly compensation. What are the sufferings 
of this short Hfe, compared to the glories He has 
prepared for us in a higher existence ? Thou wilt 
not, indeed, find there the earthly happiness which 
thou hast lost here, but new riches of His grace ; and 
the souls v/hich thou didst love here on earth, oh, 
they are immortal, like thyself; they will rejoin thee 
in Heaven, with undiminished love. Everything that 
we possess on earth is lost to us in death, except the 
spirits whom we loved ; those we shall find again 
where dwells the Lord of spirits. Amen. 



GOD IS MY COMFORTER. 

To all my pain and grief, 

Thou, Lord, canst make an end j 
When hopeless of relief, 

Thou canst salvation send. 

If sorrows overflow, 

Still let Thy will, alone. 
In joy alike, or woe, 

In life or death, be done 

As each new morn appears, 

Still may it witness be, 
That, forced from crushing cares, 

I trust alone in Thee. 

(Isaiah liv. 7, S.) 

Life is full of trouble and sorrow. Where is the 
mortal who can say with truth : " I am exempt from 
the suffering and tears which are the lot of other 
men " ? Though we may see individuals who are 
surrounded by abundance, who are glowing with 
health, wJio seem to succeed in everything they 
undertake, whose eyes are ever sparkling with merri- 
ment, and who have always a joke upon their lips, do 
v^e know what cares may be brooding in the depths 
of their minds ? Outward gaiety is often but a veil 
spread over hidden wounds. Who knows what worm 
may be gnawing at their heart's core ? 

There are families in regard to Vv^hom one is in- 
clined to assert, on first knowledge, that there is 
nothing left for them to wish for. They have all that. 



248 GOD IS MY COMFORTER, 

they want, and they are rich in all the things that 
thousands of others stand in need of; but nearer 
acquaintance, and deeper insight into those circum- 
stances of their lives which they conceal from the 
vulgar gaze, prove that things are very different from 
what they seem. In reality, these people are fre- 
quently far more unhappy than their neighbours, to 
whom they are objects of envy. Nay, there are cases 
in which the happiness apparent on the surface is, in 
fact, a secret source of many evils. 

This is probably the reason that has led numbers of 
people to believe that life on earth has been destined 
by God to be to us a life full of tribulation, and has 
induced them to call the interval between the cradle 
and the grave a time of hard trial, and the earth itself 
a valley of tears. But they are greatly mistaken. 
How, indeed, is it possible to believe that the God of 
infinite mercy and love has created valleys of tears in 
His universe ? — that He has called beings into exist- 
ence in order to torture them ? Even the most hard- 
hearted mortal would shrink from such an act, and 
they dare to attribute such cruelty to the All-holy and 
All-perfect Being ! 

It is the same feeling, perhaps, that has induced 
others to stand up and vindicate the ways of God, in 
respect of the evils existing in the world. Even pious. 
Christian scholars have undertaken such justifications 
of God in deep earnest. Alas ! that the creature 
should deem it necessary to justify the Creator. 

Indeed, every cause of consolation presented to the 
understanding during times of afiiiction proves of no 
avail if we have not the most entire and the most 
hearty trust in God ; for, whatever people may teach 



GOD IS MT COMFORTER, 249 

or preach, misfortune remains misfortune, and grief 
remains grief, and the sufferings of the heart cannot be 
healed by the convictions of the understanding. But 
this I know : — trust in our Father in Heaven lightens 
the weight of every burden, it strengthens the mind 
and reheves it of all fear, and disarms the unknown 
events of the future of all their terrors. He who has 
real trust in God does not pray : " Father, listen to 
my wishes ! Save for me that which I am threatened 
with losing," or, " Give back to me that v/hich I have 
already lost ! " Nay, he prays as Christ prayed in 
the hour of His agony — '' Father, if Thou be willing, 
remove this cup from Me : nevertheless not My will, 
but Thine, be done." (Luke xxii. 42.) 

When I think of the infinite majesty of the Lord, 
who animates thousands and thousands of worlds 
peopled by myriads of beings created by Him, and 
who has upheld these from all eternity, so that no 
sun, and no planet, can move from its appointed orbit ; 
when I think of how unfathomable is that wisdom 
which has fashioned the blade of grass and ordered 
all its inward and outward parts, and which has also 
fashioned the countless host of stars which is mar- 
shalled in the heavens ; when I think of the infinite 
goodness which He evinces towards all His creatures 
without exception, in all parts of the world, as in the 
ocean and in the heavens — then I feel that I alone 
cannot have been forgotten. How can I believe that 
He who provides for all will fail to provide for me ? 
Should I be able to breathe, should I be still in the 
world, if, for one moment only. He ceased to up- 
hold me? Nay, even in mine hour of agony, He 
does not forsake me. He is with me. He the In- 



250 GOD IS Mr COMFORTER, 

visible. All-ruling, All-gracious God. He loves 
me ! 

This conviction, this comfort, of which nothing can 
deprive me, comes home to me whenever I think of 
Him. In face of this, every doubt is silenced, which 
the imagination, the ill-temper, or the impatience of 
mortals may raise. He loves me ! I know it. He 
loves me as He loves His entire universe. I know it, 
and I should know it even had parents and teachers 
never told me of His love, — even if the entire uni- 
verse were reduced to silence. Who then has told 
me of it ? My own life tells me of it, and would 
tell me of it were all other witnesses dumb. There- 
fore, be of good cheer, my soul ! 

"For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but 
with great mercies will I gather thee. In a little 
wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment j but 
with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, 
saith the Lord thy Redeemer." (Isaiah liv. 7, 8.) 

Yes, God is my Comforter at all times, and will be 
so whatever I may have to endure in this life. For 
what can happen to me without the v/ill of the 
Almighty, who pervades all things ? And whatever 
may happen to me, Jesus hath said it, the hairs of 
my head are numbered ! And it is the will of the 
Infinite Love. If I trust in Him, whatever may 
befall me will turn to my good. 

O words full of consolation : '^ For a small 
moment I have forsaken thee ; but with great mercies 
will I gather thee" ! 

It is true, it is a hard trial for the sufferer, when 
God seems, if only for a m.oment, to have averted His 
face from him, and particularly when he knows that 



COD IS MT COMFORTER. 25 1 

he is not to blame for the sorrows that have come 
upon him, or when he has unknowingly drawn down 
upon himself the evils which he most dreaded. But 
in this latter case, why should he upbraid himself? 
Why increase his misery by unmerited self-reproaches ? 
None of us can know beforehand the effects of that 
which we do, or which we leave undone. That which 
seems perfectly harmless may sometimes produce the 
most pernicious effects ; and that from which we ex- 
pect the most dangerous consequences may eventually 
pass off without creating any mischief. Even the 
wisest and most experienced of men are but short- 
sighted mortals. The consequences of our acts or of 
our negligences are in the hand of God, who rules all 
circumstances according to His infinite wisdom. It 
would be childish folly to demand of the Ruler of the 
universe that He should guide all things according to 
our pleasure, our insight,* and our desires. Though 
what He does may not always at the moment be ac- 
cording to our wishes, it will infallibly prove to be for 
our ultimate good. Therefore, let no one grieve over 
those misfortunes which he has unwittingly brought 
down upon himself, or which he has not merited. If 
it could -not be otherwise, it was God's will that it 
should be so. All the reproaches which v/e heap upon 
ourselves are only so many more proofs of our igno- 
rance. For just as little as we could foresee the evil 
consequences of that which we did without any ma- 
levolent intention, or perhaps with the best purpose : 
just as httle can we foresee hov;^ beneficial to ourselves 
and even to others may prove those events which we 
now look upon as misfortunes. 

Not only may I involuntarily and unconsciously 



252 GOD IS MT COMFORTER. 

bring troubles upon myself and others, but the igno- 
rance and thoughtlessness of others may in like man- 
ner involve me in the evil consequences of their acts 
or negligences. A small spark from a light in a neigh- 
bour's house m^ay set it on fire, and the wind or the 
intense heat may send the devouring element into my 
dwelling also. I may thus lose the half of my pro- 
perty — perhaps the whole — but whom shall I accuse ? 
Who rules the winds, the flames, and the hours ? It 
may happen that the grievances under which some 
nations are labouring, or the inimical attitude of neigh- 
bouring States, make war inevitable. Whose will rules 
the issues ? Who determines the battle ? On what 
almost imperceptibly small circumstances do not the 
most momentous results depend ? It is possible that 
the war may bring unlooked-for advantages to me and 
my family, but it is equally possible that it may deprive 
us of our all, that it may expose me to the ill-treat- 
ment of a rude soldiery, that it may ruin my trade, 
deprive me of my office, or throw me on a bed of 
sickness. If so, whom shall I accuse of my misfor- 
tunes ? Have I any right to despair ? Whatever has 
happened, or miay still happen, forms part of the pre- 
calculated plans of Eternal Providence; and it is 
the Providence of love that has meted out my share. 
Any vain repining at what I may have lost, would be 
like the murmuring-s of a child against his father, 
who knows better than he what is good for him ; for 
God knows best what is good for my spirit, for which 
an endless existence has been prepared in the infinite 
House of the Father. For such endless existence 
many preparations may be necessar)^, the purpose and 
value of which I cannot understand, because I do not 



GOD IS MY COMFORTER. 253 

as yet know the goal towards which they are meant 
to lead. But this I do know, that they will surely 
guide me to the intended goal, for God lives ! God 
provides ! Nothing can take place without the will of 
the Father ! 

If life ended here on earth, ah, yes, then everything 
would become incomprehensible to me, then my un- 
merited sorrows would rise up in judgment against the 
justice of God. But what rational being could enter- 
tain so preposterous a thought ? . And as my mind 
refuses to believe in such a state of things, it ought 
not to allow even the most painful ills that can afflict 
me in this life, utterly to depress it. He who be- 
lieves only in the present may well despair \ but he 
who knows that the future lies open before him, his 
hope need never fail. The surgeon v/ho would com- 
pletely cure some cancerous wound, cuts even into 
the sound flesh to make sure of extracting the roots, 
and of restoring perfect health to the patient. Why- 
then despair because of the momentary pain ? It is 
inflicted only that we may be the happier in the long 
future that is before us. When my dear ones pine 
away and die — alas ! it is a bitter sorrow. But they 
did not live for this life alone. It was not bitter to 
them ; and though perhaps they would fain have 
remained longer with me, they knew not what was 
good for them. Nov/, in their glorified state, they 
triumph over their past errors. Their loss was a 
keen pang to me, for my heart clung to them with 
intense aff^ection. But is heart in reality severed 
from heart ? Are they not still living as I am, in the 
house of our Father ? Eternal existence is our lot, 
how then can I allow myself to be depressed by the 



254 ^^^ ^^ ^^ COMFORTER. 

present moment ? You may, it is true, say to your- 
self that the life of your dear ones on earth might 
have been prolonged. But, short-sighted mortals, 
how do you know whether, had you been capable 
of tracing all the concatenations of fate, you would 
have wished to prolong their life ? Whatever God 
does is well done. Not my will be done, but Thine, 
O Father ! 

Even the illness or death of a beloved object is 
less painful to an affectionate disposition than the 
grief caused by a faithless friend, who betrays under 
the mask of love ; who has been deluding us, while 
we have felt perfect faith. What deep affliction also is 
not that of kind parents who are so unfortunate as to 
have unworthy, ill-conducted children, when they find 
that all their watchings, all their tears, all their teach- 
ings, all their devotion to the child from its infancy, 
have been in vain — that all the hopes they so fondly 
cherished are dashed to the ground — that all the 
cheerful prospects of their old age are overclouded ! 
Verily, the death of a child, if ever so dearly loved, 
cannot cause such poignant grief as the sight of 
one who has gone astray. A thousand times rather 
the death of an innocent being than a wicked and 
impious life, hateful in the sight of God and man ! 
Yet such fate ofttimes falls to the lot of the most pious 
and v/ell-intentioned parents. Though they have 
neglected neither training nor instruction, according 
to their light — neither punishment, nor entreaties, nor 
warnings, nor advice — yet they have been doomed to 
see their honest endeavours fail. There are but few 
families of which some member has not gone more 
or less seriously astray, without any blame attaching to 



I 



GOD IS MT COMFORTER, 255 

the parents. However hard such misfortune may be 
for these latter to bear, the thought that they have no 
cause to upbraid themselves must, in some measure, 
diminish their grief. Man's will is free, whether he 
select good or evil ; therefore, parents are not always 
able to conquer the will and the tendencies of their 
child, whom God has endowed with freedom of self- 
determination. But one thing is certain— even those 
whom we give up for lost are not really so ; God will 
save them. He allows no soul to .be given over for 
ever to perdition. He sends suffering, and the school 
^i trial and training begins. Knowledge will come at 
iast, repentance will follow, and then improvement, 
however long delayed. Man may stray from the right 
path, and find himself among thorns and thistles ; but 
he can never entirely lose the way. Sooner or later he 
is driven back into the true path by the pain caused 
by his mistake. Yes, the *lost ones turn back at last, 
though often with bleeding feet, and in miserable con- 
dition. God takes not pleasure in the death of a 
sinner, but v/ills that he shall live. Though we may 
not see the end here on earth, there is a future beyond 
this life. Those whom we lament over here below, 
as lost, we shall embrace with tenfold delight when 
we find them again redeemed. 

Thus God is ever my Comforter ; I v/ill not, I 
cannot despair, however terrible may be the mis- 
fortunes that befall me. The Lord will direct all 
for the best. " For a small moment have I forsaken 
thee ; but with great mercies I will gather thee. In 
a little wrath I hid A4y face from thee for a moment ; 
but with everlasting kindness I will have mercy on 
thee, saith the Lord thv Redeemer." 



256 GOD IS MT COMFORTER, 

I may, then, count upon the everlasting kindness of 
the All-merciful God, even when, because of my sins, 
He turns away His face from me in anger, as it were. 
Ah, how wretched would be the lot of erring man, 
were his God an unforgiving God ! How soon is the 
false step made, and how dreadful if the error of a 
moment were to be expiated by an eternity of punish- 
ment ! But who would attribute to the all-perfect God 
an amount of cruelty which we should recoil from with 
horror even in a human being ? Far be such thought 
from me ! 

I may be made unhappy by my own fault. But the 
very suffering that is thus entailed on me is a proof of 
God's love. He has made pain the consequence of 
sin, in order that we may learn to shun it, and that 
we may learn to seek again in virtue that union with 
Him which, in our folly, we have destroyed. 

No misfortunes are so great as those we bring upon 
ourselves by our own fault. That affliction which our 
conscience tells us is unmerited, is not only bearable, 
but the consciousness of our innocence almost con- 
verts the pain into pleasure, and elevates the spirit 
above that which seemed destined to crush it. 

But suffering reaches its full measure when, in the 
looks of others, we meet not sympathy and pity, but 
reproaches and contempt ; when, instead of consola- 
tion, we are met with an expression of satisfaction that 
we have at last reaped the reward of our misdeeds. 
Yet even such taunting words as these — which can 
only be uttered by hard-hearted men — are not so bitter 
as the reproaches of our own conscience ! Woe to 
him v/ho can derive no consolation from his own 
heart ! And woe to him, when in addition to the pain- 



GOD IS MY COMFORTER. 257 

ful consciousness that he is suffering by his own fault, 
that he might have avoided the misfortune that is 
weighing him down, comes the thought of the Holi- 
ness of God, the Righteous Judge. 

Yet by far the greater number of misfortunes that 
befall men are not the results of unavoidable circum- 
stances, but of their own mistakes and misconduct. 
Impetuosity and imprudence place many a man in 
difficulties which a little more self-control would have 
enabled him to escape. But such errors as may be put 
to the account of the limitations of the human mind do 
not cause so sharp a sting as those that spring from the 
perverted state of the heart. He who with malignant 
intent has endeavoured to injure another, but has in- 
jured himself still more ; he who digs a pit for another 
but falls into it himself — from whom shall he seek 
consolation ? The punishment that overtakes him 
comes from the hand of God, and his conscience tells 
him that he has deserved even more. 

Many persons, carry through life an unhealthy 
body; they are the victims of slow disease, which, to 
all appearance, can only end in death. They were 
once in blooming health like others. But they v/asted 
their strength in debauchery, or they injured their 
health by immoderate work or pleasure. In both 
cases they have been guilty of intemperance. Or they 
have perhaps weakened their bodies by effeminate 
habits, instead of strengthening them judiciously, so 
as to enable them to bear changes of weather and 
temperature. They would not attend to the warnings 
given, and they lost their precious treasure, health, 
which they knew not how to value. Other persons 
are afflicted with bodily sufferings which have been 

s 



258 GOD IS MT COMFORTER. 

brought on by no fault of their own ; but how much 
lighter must not these be to bear than those for 
which the conscience tells the sufferer he has to thank 
himself! 

To look upon poverty as a thing to be ashamed of, 
is folly. Thousands are poor who have every claim 
to our respect. Nay, many a v/orthy individual is 
only the more to be revered because of his poverty. 
But when a man has ruined his fortunes by his own 
senseless undertakings; when he has impoverished 
himself by extravagance, by ostentation, by indolence, 
or by profligacy : then his poverty becomes a reproach : 
a just reproach, as he may read in the contemptuous 
looks of his fellow-men : a righteous punishment, as 
his conscience v/ill tell him. 

Every dereliction reaps its reward. However 
v/illing man may be to overlook his own faults, God 
does not overlook them ; sin is inevitably followed 
by punishment. We may think that we may give 
ourselves up to this or that passion without danger, 
but the evil consequences do not fail to present them- 
selves, and sooner or later they destroy us. Hov/ever 
cleverly we may conceal our misdeeds, the hour will 
come when our cunning will prove of no avail, and 
our baseness will be divulged to the world. 

Alas ! these self-inflicted sufferings are the direst 
evils of our life s and many a heart is secretly tortured 
by them ; many a man is brought to the grave by 
them, though no eye but that of the Omniscient sees 
his misery. 

But however great may be the anguish of my heart 
and conscience, I do not despair. Will not the All- 
merciful One have mercy on me also ? Is He not 



GOD IS MT COMFORrER. 



259 



che loving Father of all His creatures, therefore also 
mine ? 

Yea, yea ! Thou art the merciful God, the Re- 
deemer, and Thou wilt not forsake me. Great is the 
number of my sins, but Thy m.ercy is greater still. I 
am not worthy of the life thou hast bestov/ed upon 
me, and which I have sullied with my sins , I am not 
worthy to behold Thy world, which I have desecrated 
by my misdeeds. I am not v/orthy of Thy m^ercy 
and Thy long-sufFering. And yet, O m.y Redeemer, 
I have hope in Thy forgiveness, and Thou wilt not 
put m.y hope to sham.e. 

Hast Thou not said it, O eternally good Creator of 
my soul ? Hast Thou not said : " For a sm.all mo- 
ment have I forsaken thee ; but with great mercies I 
will gather thee. In a httle wrath I hid My face from 
thee for a moment ; but with everlastins; kindness I 
will have mercy on thee^' ? Thou didst love me even 
when I sinned so gravely against Thee. Wilt Thou 
love Thy erring child less now that he is being 
chastened by suffering r When none else can or 
will comfort me, Thou remainest ever my Comforter. 

He who bled on the cross bled for me also. And 
it is He who has directed me to seek refuge with Thee 
in my bitterest agony, and who established the holy 
covenant which I have broken. " For the mountains 
shall depart, and the hills be removed," saith Thou, 
my Lord and Redeemer ; " but My kindness shall not 
depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my 
peace be removed." (Isaiah liv. 10.) Thou art the 
Helper in my need, O God, and my Comforter at all 
times. 

Have mercy upon me, then. All-merciful God ; 

s 2 



260 GOD IS MT COMFORTER. 

gather me again unto Thee, and relieve me of my 
sin. I am expiating it by the agonies of my mind, by 
the remorse of my conscience ; and not by shedding 
barren tears only, but by performing holy and benevo- 
lent acts, will I endeavour to recover my lost peace. 
This peace, however, I can find nowhere but in 
Thy grace and favour. Firmly trusting that my sins 
will be forgiven by Thy eternal love revealed to me 
through Jesus Christ, I will bear my punishment 
willingly and patiently, and will cast away whatever 
may threaten me. Thou leadest all things to good 
for those who trust in Thee, and walk before Thee 
in righteousness. Amen. 



GOD^S VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART. 

Though all tongues were silent, Lord, ^ 

I should find Thee everywhere ; 
Sun and moon Thy might record, 

Hill and vale their witness bear. 
Earth and Heaven might silent be, 
Still my soul should tell of Thee. 

In the summer's golden days, 

In the forest's shady night, 
In the blue-tongued lightning's blaze. 

In the gleams of starry light, 
In the storm that round me breaks. 
Father, 'tis Thy presence speaks. 

Yes, where'er my way may be, 

Still I hear Thy -woice reprove : 
** Ah, why persecut'st thou Me, 

In return for so much love?" 
No — I'll turn to Thee once more i 
Weeping, penitent, adore. 

(Acts xxii. 7.) 

To every devout reader of the Bible, every lover of 
the early history of the Christian religion, there is 
something peculiarly awe-inspiring in the events that 
led to the conversion of St. Paul. Often have I read 
that narrative so full of import, vv^ith deep and reflec- 
tive interest, and never without being strongly moved 
by it, and reminded of the power of Providence. 

In the days when Paul, then still called Saul, v/as 
one of the fiercest persecutors of the Christians, there 
was hardly a Jew who exceeded him in zeal and 
activity for the suppression of the new doctrine. He 



262 GOD'S VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART. 

forced himself into the assemblies of the Christians, 
however secret they endeavoured to keep them, to 
mark the members in order to betray them, and to 
deHver them up to their persecutors. He himself 
imprisoned those who believed in Jesus, and ill-treated 
them. And when the blood of the pious Stephen, 
the first of the martyrs, was shed, Saul stood by and 
rejoiced in the death of the innocent man, and took 
care tha't his clothes should be kept for those who 
killed him. 

But whatever Saul did against the Christians, he 
did with the full conviction that he was right. He 
saw in them only apostates from the old faith ; persons 
who denied Moses and the Prophets ; destroyers of 
the Law delivered to Moses by Jehovah on Mount 
Sinai ; enthusiasts, and lovers of nev/ things. 

But one day as he was journeying towards Damas- 
cus with the intention of bringing away from that city 
the adherents of Jesus who had been discovered there 
and thrown into prison, and of taking them in chains 
to Jerusalem to be judged by the tribunals there, 
and when he was not far from Damascus, a great light 
shone from heaven around himi, though it was noon- 
day, and he fell to the ground, dazzled by its brilliancy. 
There were others with him, but he alone was so 
overpowered by the light that he was blinded by it. 
And he heard a voice saying : ^' Saul, Saul, why per- 
secutest thou Me?" 

This vision gave a new direction to Saul's life. 
His convictions were entirely changed. He recog- 
nized the divine nature of Jesus, the Saviour whom 
he had persecuted : and from that mom.ent he be- 
came one of the firmest adherents of the Christian 



GOD'S VOICE IN TEE HUMAN HEART. 263 

faith. The persecutions which, a short time pre- 
viously, he prepared for others, he now suffered 
willingly himself. The tortures, the chains, the im- 
prisonment which he had before inflicted on others^ 
he now bore joyfully himself for Jesus' sake. He 
was baptized, gave up everything connected with 
his former state, even laid down the name under 
which he had proved himself so terrible a foe to 
the first Christians, and called himself thenceforward 
Paul. 

In like m.anner as Paul heard the voice of God, 
so does every human being hear it to this day. It 
sounds in the ears of each one of us, in louder or 
gentler tones, in the most decisive moments of our 
lives, saying : " Why persecutest thou Me ? " 

Every man and wom.an has no doubt some wish, 
for the fulfihiient of which they passionately yearn, 
exerting all their energies *to obtain it. The object 
held in view is not always a noble one; the motive 
not always so pure as that of Paul, v/ho was only 
endeavouring to" defend the old lav/s given to the 
Israelites on Mount Sinai, against persons whom 
he considered mischievous innovators. Neverthe- 
less each man labours to reach the g-oal he has 

o 

marked out for himself. His attempts prove abor- 
tive ; but this only spurs him on the more, 
makes him the miore determined to carry his point. 
V/hile pressing onward, hov/ever, he cannot help 
feeling that something very different from that for 
which he is labouring must have been ordained by 
Providence. For the very reverse of that v/hich he 
wishes, hopes, and expects, is brought about by the 
course of events. He perceives that his will is not 



264 GOD'S VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART. 

the will of the all-ruling Governor of the World. 
Nevertheless he will not yield ; nevertheless he goes 
on striving and wrestling, as if his weak arm could 
subdue the Eternal God, and arrest the progress of 
mighty destiny. In so doing, however, he is only 
preparing grievous misfortunes for himself and his 
family. They fall upon him at last, and then he 
hears the warning voice : " Why persecutest thou 
Me?" He halts for a moment in his mistaken 
career. But the earnest forewarnings contained in 
events are in vain — in vain the admonitions of his 
conscience. He is too proud to give up his plans and 
to turn back. The violence of his passions carries 
him on to certain destruction. He sees the abyss 
before him ; but he still deludes himself. He obsti- 
nately persuades himself that he can achieve the im- 
possible. At length he reaches the limit which God 
will not allow him to overstep, and he sin^ks down^ 
defeated in the fulness of his perversity. 

There is not one of us who does not, sooner or 
later, in the course of his life, hear the voice of God 
speaking to his heart ; now in soft and gentle accents, 
now with terrible earnestness. 

It seems to rise from the very depths of God's 
creation, as it lies around us in the splendour of 
summer, when, oppressed with grief, or full of low 
passions, and with a distinct consciousness of all our 
defects and vices, we go forth into the fields and 
woods, v/here everything — from the dewdrop glittering 
on a blade of grass to the stars twinkling in the 
heavens, from the worm in the dust to the eagle 
high up in the air — speaks to us of the goodness, the 
love, the holiness of the Creator. When, on such 



GOD'S VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART. 265 

occasions, our eye surveys with delight the glory of 
God in all His works ; when a gentle emotion stirs in 
our bosoms, and an inward feeling tells us how good 
is God, how sinful we, how pure is all that comes 
from His hand, how impure our thoughts and aims ! — 
Then a soft, loving voice whispers to the heart, 
saying : " Why persecutest thou Me ? " 

When autumn fills our laps with the blessed gifts 
of the Divine bounty, which has fertilized fields and 
meadows, and vineyards and orchards, that men and 
animals might find food sufficient for their needs : and 
we turn our eyes inward, and see how many sufferers 
we have, with hard hearts, refused to comfort, how 
many tears we have left to flow ; v/hen we compare 
the abundance which God has bestowed on us, with 
the little We have done to promote the well-being of 
others, can we fail to feel disapproval of our own 
conduct? During such self-examination it is that 
the voice of God sounds gently and kindly in our 
hearts, saying : " Why persecutest thou Me ? " 

Cities and villages are consumed by flames ; widows 
and orphans send forth loud lamentations ; sisters and 
brothers, and little children, v/eep for the loved ones 
whom they have lost ; the poor take up the wanderer's 
staff with trembling hands ; the wealthy find them- 
selves without a shelter over their heads. This is the 
power of God mianifesting itself ! And from amidst 
the havoc of war, the flames of the cities, and the 
destruction of the prosperity of mankind, a voice 
sounds, saying to the human race : "Why persecutest 
thou Me ? " 

It is the same awful voice that speaks from out the 
thunder-cloud, and in the fury of the storm, and 



266 GOD'S VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART. 

awakens the thoughtless sinner to the seriousness of 
life. It is the same voice which speaks in the flash 
of the lightning, as it strikes now the palace of the 
voluptuary, now the hovel of the poor man. It is 
the same voice that is heard in the murmurs of the 
dying, v/hen some dreadful epidemic depopulates 
entire countries. It is this voice that speaks in the 
roaring wind when it uproots mighty trees, throws 
down stone walls, engulphs ships in the abyss of the 
ocean. It speaks — but it is not to the dead it 
addresses itself. They have been taken away by 
God. He calls away the righteous as well as the 
sinner. Death is no evil, however terrible the out- 
ward circumstances that accompany it. It is to the 
livino; the voice addresses itself, to the li\'ino- who are 
witnesses of the great events, or Vv^ho are made 
acquainted with them. The power of the Almighty 
reveals itself to them in terrific v/arnings, and saith : 
^' Why persecutest thou Me r " 

It happens frequently that some sad calamity over- 
takes us in the midst of the sv/eet intoxication of 
the highest earthly happiness. Ofctimes the object 
to v/hich the heart clings most strongly, of v/hich 
we make an idol, is the first to be wrested from 
us. Ofctimxcs he is the first to lose his goods and 
chattels, who has made the accumulation of earthly 
v/e:.lth the object of his life. Ofttimes he is robbed 
of his honours, v/ho sacrificed e^^ery higher duty for 
the gratification of his pride : he who lived for fame, 
for the satisfaction of being raised above his fellow- 
men, of having it in his power to oppress them. 
Ofttimes those are the first to lose friend, or husband, 
or child, who, in their love for these, failed to re- 



GOD'S VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART. 267 

member that ia this life nothing is lasting ; that we 
ought to attach ourselves with the strongest bonds to 
virtue alc3ne ; that though on earth, we must live for 
Heaven ; that not what is earthly, but only that 
which is eternal, is worthy of true love. And the 
haggard looks of the covetous, who have lost their 
all ; the fall of the proud man ; the stony features 
of our dead loved ones, speak to us with the voice of 
God, saying : '^ V/hy persecutest thou Me ? ^' 

But, can poor v/eak mortals really persecute God ? 
Or what is meant by persecuting God ? 

When one man persecutes another, he does so 
hy endeavouring to thwart him in every way, and by 
trying to effect exactly the contrary to what the 
other wills or v/ishes. Disobedient children perse- 
cute their parents v/hen they repay with ingratitude 
the many benefits bestowed by them ; when they 
embitter the life of those from v/hom they have 
received their own life, by hatred, contempt, neglect, 
and mockery, by their heartless dispositions and im- 
pious deeds. 

Now, it is indubitably true that mortals cannot 
persecute God in the same way as they persecute 
their fellow-m.en. He is invisible to us. We cannot 
persecute Jesus as the Jews did, who sought Him 
out, brought Him before the Judge, insulted Him, 
and dragged Him to execution, iiut neither could 
Paul thus personally persecute Jesus, who had risen 
from the dead, and had returned to Heaven ; and 
yet the voice from Heaven cried : " Saul, Saul, why 
persecutest thou Me ? " 

Jesus has said : " Verily I say unto you, Inasm.uch 
as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my 



268 GOWS VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART. 

brethren, ye have done it unto Me." " I was an 
hungred, and ye gave Me no meat : I was thirsty, 
and ye gave Me no drink : I was a stranger, and 
ye took me not in : naked, and ye clothed Me not : 
sick, and in prison, and ye visited iMe not." It is in 
vain that we answer : ^' Lord, when saw we Thee 
an hungred, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or 
sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto Thee ? " 
For the Lord will answer : '' Verily, I say unto you, 
Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, 
ye did it not to Me." 

You then, who are full of envy and ill-will towards 
your fellow-creatures, who disparage them and mock 
at them, and seek to sullv their honour and their 
good name : it is you who persecute Jesus. You, 
who are breathing revenge because you have been 
insulted, or at least fancy yourselves so, and who 
know no rest until you have inflicted some' injury on 
your opponents : it is you who are persecuting Jesus. 
You, who oppress the poor, who defraud those who 
trust you, who retain possession of property that is 
not rightfully yours, who over-reach the ignorant in 
business, who injure the rights of others openly or 
secretly : it is you who persecute Jesus. And you, 
who selfishly neglect to make others participators in 
the blessings that have fallen to your lot, and who 
prefer wasting your superfluity on sumptuous feasts, 
costly dresses, and expensive amusements, rather than 
to spend it on undertakings for the public benefit, or 
rather than take an energetic part in promoting the 
v/elfare of your country : it is you who are persecuting 
Jesus. You, v/hose dissolute lives are devoted to 
destroying the peace of innocence, and disturbing the 



GOD'S VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART, 269 

conjugal happiness of others, and end in the destruc- 
tion of your own mental and bodily strength : it is 
you who are persecuting Jesus. For whatever you 
do or leave undone towards others, you do or you 
leave undone towards Him. 

We persecute God when we intentionally show 
disdain for His holy laws. In ]ike manner parents 
are persecuted by their children when the latter set at 
noucrht the advice and entreaties of father and mother, 
or proudly deny them before the world, or forget and 
neo-lect them in secret. Every man who lives and 
acts as if there were no retributive justice above the 
stars, denies God, if not with his lips, at least in his 
heart. 

" There is a God ! " cries the conscience of the 
sinner. " There is no God ! " cry the deeds of the 
sinner. Though the laws c)f eternal truth and right 
are indelibly graven on his soul, he consummates the 
work of unrighteousness and falsehood. This is 
denial of God. He enters the temple of the All- 
high ; he sees the Christian congregation sunk in 
devotion, he hears the preaching of the Holy V/ord, 
he hears the recapitulation of his duties, and he re- 
turns to his usual ways unaltered and unimproved ; 
he lacks the will to correct his faults, he makes no 
attempt to render his life more noble than heretofore. 
This is showing a disdain for the Deity and His 
laws, which no man can do unpunished. There 
are moments of solemn emotion, when his heart is 
touched and softened, when perhaps he has just 
escaped some dreadful danger, or when he has been 
surprised by a great and unexpected joy, or when he is 
stretched on a bed of pain and sickness, or when he is 



270 GOD'S VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART. 

weeping over the corpse of some beloved object — he 
then feels the power of God, who holds him also in 
the hollow of His hand. Fie then remembers his 
ov/n unworthiness before the All-high, and he hears 
the voice of God, saying: ^^ Why persecutest thou 
Me?" He reflects. He repents. He learns to 
see the nothingness of earthly things, and the neces- 
sity of adopting the faith of Jesus — the only faith that 
has the power of making men happy — and of con- 
secrating him.self to virtue and to God. He prays. 
He makes solemn promises. But the moment goes 
by. The important hour of his life is forgotten. The 
first excitement of his feelings subsides. He hardly 
retains a recollection of v/hat has taken place. Speak- 
ing of the past, he says5V/ith audacious flippancy: " I 
was a foolish enthusiast at the time," and with that 
he consoles himself in his degradation. He breaks 
the promises v/hicli he sv/ore before the Omniscient. 
Again the world becomes more to him than eternity ; 
the judgments of men more than the judgment of God, 
This is disdain and desecration of the dignity and 
majesty of the Most High. To any of his fellov/- 
beings, to a prince or to a king, he would perhaps have 
kept his promise ; but to God he breaks it. Before 
men, the children of the dust, he desires to appear 
honest ; not so before God, the Eternal. The punish- 
ments of men he fears ; of the retributive justice dealt 
out by the All-just he has no apprehension. 

Even the want of steadfastness of purpose that 
leads us at one moment to determine to be good, and 
the next to be guilty of a bad action, is a violation of 
the profound reverence which we ov/e to the Lord of 
our life, the Ruler of the universe. The thoughtless- 



GOD'S VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART. 2J1 

ness with which we give ourselves up to the iniluepxce 
of outward things, and which prevents us from acting 
ever in strict accordance with duty, and with the ex- 
hortations of Jesus, but on the other hand leads us to 
consult expediency only : this thoughtlessness or levity 
is an insult to the majesty of God, to v/hom we refuse 
to make any sacrifice if it is to cost the least self- 
denial, while at the same time v/e are ready to make 
the greatest sacrifices for the satisfaction of our sensual 
desires. 

Therefore it is that the voice of God sounds so 
solem^nly in the joyful, as well as in the sorrowful, 
hours of our life, saying : " V/hy persecutest thou 
Me ? '' 

Ah ! let every one v/ho understands the cry, turn 
back. Why do we persecute Him who v/atches over 
us with infinite love ? Why despise Him who protects 
and upholds us, and on whos*e will our very life-breath 
depends ? Why deny Him who reveals Himself to us 
in the splendours of the universe, in the gifts of nature, 
in the sorrows and joys of life, and in the innermost 
depths of our conscience ? 

Turn back, full of repentance, like Paul, when he 
had heard the warning voice, and like him become, 
instead of a persecutor of Jesus, one of His most 
faithful followers and v/itnesses — his living image in 
thought, speech, and action. Even this meditation is 
a call of God to thee, O my spirit, saying, ^' And 
thou also, v/hy persecutest thou Me ? '^ 

O my Saviour, hfe of my life, I will no longer be 
numbered am.ong Thy persecutors. Nay, I will bear 
in mind that every injury I inflict upon my fellow-men 
I inflict upon Thy brethren, upon Thyself. I will 



272 GOD'S VOICE IN THE HUMAN HEART, 

remember that whatever good I may do in promoting 
the welfare and happiness of others. Thou wilt accept 
as if done unto Thee. 

Alas ! how often, O my God, my feather on high, 
how often have I not forsaken Thee, and inclined to- 
wards sin ! But Thou didst spare me. Thou hadst 
mercy on me, and yet I forgot Thee, and again for- 
sook Thee. Oh, have pity on me ; keep not an 
account of my offences, forgive me, merciful Father, 
and once more take Thy child into Thy bosom. In 
spirit I prostrate myself before Thine exalted throne, 
and weep for my sins. But even my scalding tears 
cannot wash out the stains on my soul. The days 
of my past life rise up before Thee and accuse me. 
Ah, forgive, forgive ! I will strive to make each 
of my days henceforward a blessing to myself; so 
that I may look up to Thee with hope and courage, 
and say : " Abba, dear Father in Heaven ! ^^ 



THE DUTY OF SETTING A GOOD 
EXAMPLE. 

To Thee, my God, to Thee alone I'll live, 
Afcer Thy grace and Thy example strive, 
That mirrored in my life, a glimpse of thins 

To all may shine. 

And should the world its scorn envenomed fling, 
Thy love approving, shall remove the sting : 
Who dare declare himself, unknowing Thee. 

Thine own to be ? 

(Matt. v. 15, i6.) 

When we occasionally hear of some terrible crime, or 
some extraordinary act of profligacy, people at once 
begin to lament over the degeneracy of the times, the 
decay of morals, the decline in religion. But there is 
another, and far more striking proof of the common 
degeneracy, because it hardly admits of an exception, 
which, however, is passed over in silence. This proof 
is the fact, that but very few Christians have the 
courage to appear as good and noble as they are or 
would wish to be, for fear of being thought ridiculous. 
Even the common proverb, '^ You must howl with 
the wolves when you are among them," confirms the 
existence of this weakness. 

There are few persons — let every one lay his hand 
on his heart and say whether this be not true — there 
are few persons who have firmness enough to defy 
the judgment of the great multitude, when there is a 

T 



274 ^-^-^ Durr of setting a good example. 

question of carrying out principles to which it is 
opposed. They do not shrink so much from being 
wrong as from being ridiculous, and would rather 
endure the blame of the good, than the sneers of the 
unworthy. Is not this as much a proof of the weak- 
ness of those who, from fear of others, refrain from 
being as virtuous as they ought to be, as it is of the 
low tone of public opinion, which laughs at the 
noblest men as fools and enthusiasts ? 

Thou art surrounded by a society composed of 
unprincipled profligates. Youth, fortune, and high 
spirits, entitle thee and invite thee to take part in 
their pleasures. Thou art sometimes shocked by the 
immoral tone of their conversation ; at others, by 
their intemperance in pleasure, and their sins against 
good manners \ but hast thou the courage to express 
thy disapprobation, and thus to make thyself the target 
of their wit and their ridicule ? 

Thou hast often found thyself in the midst of a 
circle of people more or less known to thee, in which 
the animated conversation has suddenly turned upon 
the virtues or defects of certain persons. Heartless 
scandal soon reared her head, and the good name 
of some worthy man v/as sacrificed for the sake of a 
witty phrase ; or the innocence of a pure reputation 
was rendered suspicious. Perhaps thou knewest at 
the time how untrue, were the words spoken by the 
laughing lips of malice ; but hadst thou sufficient 
moral firmness to abide by thy better conviction, and 
to stand up for the person attacked, and to oppose 
the slanderer ? Lay thy hand upon thy heart and 
ask thyself, how often thou didst acquiesce, against 
thy better judgment, in order to conform to the tone 



rHE DUTT OF SETTING A GOOD EXAMPLE. 275 

of those around rhee ; how often thou hast trans- 
gressed a sacred duty in order not to lose thy reputa- 
tion for poLteness. 

In pulpits and on platforms we may perhaps still 
hear the noble word, patriotism; but how many are 
there who would not feel embarrassed to take an 
unusual step, or to make an unusual sacrifice out 
of patriotism, or who would venture in society to 
urge others to noble deeds for the sake of their com^- 
mon country ! However good an4 useful an under- 
taking may be, even^ one hangs back from being the 
first to enter upon it. They fear lest they should 
be called foolish or pharisaical, or be considered am- 
bitious enthusiasts, or virtuous knights-errant. They 
wait to see v/hat others will do, and call that m.o- 
dest)', which, in reahty, is but the effect of sensitive 
vanity. 

Nay, that is not true Christian modesty which 
makes us ashamed of doing the good v/e feel the 
power and the inclination to do. That is not Chris- 
tian modesty which makes us prefer to take part 
in senseless and unworthy proceedings, rather than to 
make ourselves conspicuous by refusal. It is false 
shame, it is a betrayal of virtue, it is self-desecration ; 
thou placest the opinion of erring m.ortals higher than 
the truths taught by Jesus, thy Divine Master ; thou 
hast more respect for the judgment of the world than 
for the judgment of God \ thou v/ouldst serve two 
masters, and betrayest them both. 

That true modesty which is the highest ornament 
of a Christian, never makes a shov/ of virtue ; but it 
never sacrifices what is right to the opinion of fools, 
Alodesty prefers doing good in secret and silence, but 



276 rHE Durr of setting a good example. 



i 



I 



it does not refuse to do what is right because it must 
be done in public. It has no desire to win fame by 
its actions ; and therefore it has the courage to bear 
scorn and ridicule if need be. 

The true follower of Jesus confesses Him openly. 
A friend who, though he calls himself so in secret, 
blushes to ov/n me in public, must always be sus- 
picious in my eyes. He cannot be sincerely my 
friend. And thus, likewise, he is not a Christian, not 
a true follower of Christ, who is timid enough to deny 
Him by v/ord and action before the world. " Who- 
soever shall confess Me before men," said Christ to 
His disciples when preparing them for going into the 
world, " him will I confess also before A4y Father, 
which is in Heaven. But whosoever shall deny Me 
before men, him will I also deny before My Father, 
which is in Heaven." 

To act rightly and in strict accordance with prin- 
ciple, at all times and under all circumstances, with- 
out reference to the opinions or the sarcasms of the 
vulgar multitude, is a very different thing from acting 
in accordance with pharisaical pride. 

The Pharisee, it is true, also does good in public, 
but he does it, not from a pure sense of duty, but 
from selfish motives. He makes a boast of virtue 
which does not dwell in his heart. He speaks the 
truth, but not so much out of love as out of hatred. 
He gives alms to the poor, but he is not actuated 
by real charity, but by the desire to gain the approval 
and esteem of the world. He readily undertakes to 
support public institutions, and promote the general 
welfare, but with the hope of winning the favour of 
the great, and of fixing the eyes of the people upon 



THE DU'JV GF SETTING A GOOD EXAMPLE. 277 

himself. It is not virtue he aims at, but rewards, 
honours, higher offices, or more extended influence. 
Though he preaches charity in public, he works in 
secret at the downfall of his rival ; though he de- 
claims in public against the prevalent immorality, he 
satisfies in secret his lusts and his love of revenp-e: 
he, who in church, or at the theatre, or when reading, 
or listening to a touching narrative, sheds tears of 
sympathy and pity, nevertheless allows him.self to 
cheat widows and orphans out of their money, or to 
neglect property entrusted to him, or to plunge some 
poor family into ruin because they v/ill not do his 
bidding. 

How far more exalted is the mind of the true 
foUov/er of Jesus ! He strives for virtue, not for the 
mere appearance of it ; he looks to the act, not to the 
fame that is to be gained by it. He does his duty, 
even should the world condemn him. He v/alks in 
the path of righteousness, even though it lead to tri- 
bulation, as Jesus Christ walked courageously in the 
path that led to the cross ! 

The truly wise and virtuous man must not only do 
his duty in secret as well as before men, but in ad- 
dition to this, he must seize joyfully every occasion 
of influencing others by his example, and of inciting 
them to generous and noble thoughts and deeds. 

" Let your light so shine before men, that they 
may see your good works, and glorify your Father 
which is in Heaven," is the command of the Divine 
Founder of our religion. 

By setting an example of goodness, v/e are to en- 
courage others to act in like manner. This is a duty 
the more incumbent on every righteous m.an in the 



278 THE DUrr OF SETTING A GOOD EXAMPLE, 

present day^ as it is becoming more and more com- 
mon to be ashamed of one's virtues as well as of 
one's faults ; as it is considered a merit to wrap one- 
self in impenetrable mystery, and dignified to assume 
an amount of reserve which makes it impossible for 
any one to know what v/e really are. Where such a 
tone reigns in society, it is easy for a bad man to pass 
himself ofF for good ; for how is the one to be dis- 
tinguished from the other ? Where this concealment 
of one's true views and opinions has come to be con- 
sidered as a mark of good breeding, there artful hypo- 
crisy must rank higher than truth, appearances must 
be placed above reality, and conventionality above 
piety and cordiality. One man must be like another ; 
all must be, more or less, masters in deception ; 
all must be, more or less, the slaves of secret 
selfishness. 

It is the duty of every Christian — of every wise 
man — to avoid all artful and unworthy submission to 
established custom. For a man is very apt to be- 
come in reality what, at first, he only gives himself 
the appearance of being, and habit soon becomes 
second nature. 

But this duty is doubly urgent and solemn when we 
live in times in v/hich vice assumes fine names, and 
walks barefaced through the streets. Place the ex- 
ample of God-fearing virtue boldly before the eyes of 
the people, when the brazen villain dares to flaunt his 
baseness in the open day. Let thyself be knov/n as 
a man faithful and true to his v/ord, and inspire the 
weak by thy heroic example, while others toy with 
their oaths, and represent treachery as prudence. 
Show thyself in thine innocence and thy stern mo- 



THE DUTY OF SETTING A GOOD EXAMPLE. 279 

rality in the midst of those who call laxity of morals 
amiable tolerance, and who find excuses for adul- 
terers. Vice seduces, virtue inspires, by example. 
Thou wilt not long stand alone. The respect of 
the high-minded v/ill surround thee, though sinners 
will avoid thee. 

It is the duty of every Christian, and of every wise 
man, to be a light in the path of his fellov/-men ; for 
a thousand excellent m.axims will not touch the heart 
as m^uch as one example of a just and noble deed. 
It is" by His example that the World-Redeem.er has 
set a light before us. He would not have been the 
Saviour of the world, had He not had the courage to 
die on the cross for the redemption of mankind. Had 
He not inspired His disciples with equal fortitude, 
neither they nor the martyrs of the primitive Church 
would, for the sake of His Word, have borne death 
and shame so joyfully. H611 would have triumphed, 
heathendom would have conquered, eternal truth 
would have died with the lips that first preached it. 

" Let your light so shine before men, that they 
may see your good v/orks," cries Jesus Christ; and 
He acted in accordance with His v/ords. This ex- 
hortation to Christian heroism, goes forth to the high 
as well as to the low — to the young as well as to the 
old. We are therefore called upon intentionally to do 
the good which we do in public. 

There is, however, no indication in the exhortation 
that we are to push ourselves forward, and to endea- 
vour to attract to ourselves and our actions the atten- 
tion of all Nay, we know that nothing has less effect 
upon the hearts of others than conduct adopted for 
mere example's sake. Such far-sought opportunities 



il 



280 THE DUTY OF SETTING A GOOD EXAMPLE, 

for exhibiting ourselves from an advantageous point of 
view, destroy the effect the good might othervi^ise pro- 
duce ; as, under such circumstances, the actors seldom 
escape a suspicion of being incited by secret vanity. 
It is not the good deed alone that is to be imitated, 
but the disposition from v^^hich it springs. Indeed, 
there is no necessity for our anxiously seeking oppor- 
tunities for setting a good example, for God will not 
fail to provide numerous occasions on which we may 
manifest our inward worth and our highest convic- 
tions. Set an example of forbearance when the neg- 
ligence or malignity of others rouses thee to anger. 
Set an example of generosity when thou hast an 
opportunity of humiliating thine enemy. Set an ex- 
ample of fidelity when others, with easy pliancy, con- 
form to circumstances, and break their oaths with a 
mere shrug of the shoulders. Set an example of noble 
steadfastness when seduction ventures to approach 
thee with flattering tongue, and endeavours to under- 
mine thy virtue. Set an example of patient resigna- 
tion to the will of God when thy wealth melts away, 
when thy loved ones die, when friends turn their 
backs upon thee because fortune has deserted thee 

We shall never lack opportunities in social life 
of standing forward as upright men or women. Let 
us but have the courage to prove ourselves to be 
Christians by word and deed, in public as in secret, 
and we shall have set a good example. 

The duty of setting a good example is the more 
obligatory when we hold a position in society which 
makes us objects of general attention. Thus the 
responsibility of the father is greater than that of his 
child ; more is expected from rulers than from sub- 



THE DUTY OF SETTING A GOOD EXAMPLE. 28 1 

jects ; more from the rich than from the poor ; more 
from the cultivated than from the ienorant. The 
wider the sphere of thy influence, the more powerful 
is the example of thy virtues, the more seductive the 
example of thy vices. Thou dost not live and act for 
thyself alone — thy virtues illuminate, thy vices darken 
the world around thee. 

The examiple of virtue is the more attractive when 
it is set forth in acts the performance of which involves 
a sacrifice. Therefore Christ pointed out to his 
disciples the poor widow, who modestly approached 
the treasury, and put in the mite which she had 
perhaps saved up by the greatest self-denial. 

When an enervated old man shuns the follies of 
youth \ when persons in pecuniary distress avoid ex- 
travagance ; when the naturally tender-hearted abstain 
from cruelty, or gentle dispositions refrain from anger 
— how can we look upoii them as offering an ex- 
ample for imitation, or v/hat claims have they on our 
admiration ? 

But when a youth, in the full strength of his years 
and passions, shows by his conduct that frivolity is 
hateful to him ; when he turns away with disgust from 
the allurements of luxury and sensual gratifications ; 
when he joyfully submits to the severe discipline of 
labour and order, though he is not insensible to the 
pleasures of life — he excites, with justice, the admira- 
tion of his fellov/-men, and the desire of his young 
companions to follow his example. 

Therefore, let each one of us endeavour to set an 
example in those virtues which are the least expected 
of us. Let the warrior who hastens to the battle-field, 
whither duty towards his sovereign and his country 



282 THE DUTT OF SErTING A GOOD EXAMPLE. 



m 



I 



call him, set a brilliant example of humanity. Let 
him spare the unarmed, and protect the helpless against 
the cruelty of his more brutal companions ; let him 
save the property of his enemy from the hands of the 
rapacious, and defend innocence against the attacks of 
lawless violence. 

Let him v/ho stands high, and vv^ho possesses fam.e, 
and power, and splendour, set an example of modest 
simplicity. Let him prefer the calm consciousness 
of having done his duty, to the flattery of base self- 
seekers. Let him honour even the humblest of his 
subordinates, as a man and a brother. 

Let him on whom God has bestowed unusual capa- 
cities, who has acquired the fame of possessing great 
knowledge and high culture, set a noble example of 
respect for religion. He is looked up to by the rude 
multitude. Let him by his example lead them to 
reverence for v/hat is holy, and for the time-honoured 
institutions which have been founded for the moral 
and religious instruction of the people. 

Let the rulers of the people, and the magistrates 
and judges set the example of implicit obedience 
to the laws ^ let them avoid even the appearance of 
making any exceptions in their own favour, where they 
might do so. Let them honour every good citizen ; 
let them not judge according to the person 5 nor allow 
themselves to be influenced by party feeling or family 
affection, so as to be hostile .to one because he belongs 
to an opposite party, and to favour another because he 
is a relative, to the detriment of persons of higher 
merit. 

Let the wealthy set an example of wise simplicity 
of life, and the rich of humility. Let them^ prefer the 



niE DUTY OF SETTING A GOOD EXAMPLE. 283 

fame of having saved an unhappy family from ruin 
to that of giving the most luxurious dinners. Let 
them put less store on the possession of expensive 
furniturej but go forth into the dvi^elliiigs of poverty 
and soothe the last mom^ents of some wretched suf- 
ferer. Let them clothe themselves and their families 
in less costly apparel, in order that they may have the 
means of giving the needy warm raiments. Let them 
desist from the pleasures of the card-table, in order 
that they may prepare a life of happiness for some 
poor orphans. 

Let the citizen of humble estate set the exam^ple of 
a refinement of feeling v/hich revolts against ignoble 
and low pleasures, and prefers such as spring from 
the cultivation of the mind. Let him. ennoble his 
condition by honesty in his trade, and order in his 
household, by good manners and modest dignity of 
deportment. Let no wora of hateful and contemptible 
professional envy be heard under his roof; but let 
him be content with his position, and without pride 
or defiance raise himself by his honourable character 
and acquirements to a level v/ith the best among 
the people. 

Let the teachers of the religion of Jesus set the 
sublime example of tolerance towards other sects and 
religions ; let them hate men's vices, not their faith ; 
but let them by the victorious power of their example 
inspire others with the Christian virtues. 

And let it be my aim also, thus to help to spread 
the kingdom of God on earth. Alas ! how little have 
I hitherto contributed towards this; how often has 
not the prevailing tone of society made me swerve 
in my noblest intentions ; how often have I not been 



284 ^-^^ DUrr OF SETTING A GOOD EXAMPLE. 

embarrassed when I have been called upon to let my 
light shine before others ; how often have I not been 
ashamed of my best feelings, of my uprightness, and 
my piety, because I feared the ridicule of the vulgar 
herd ! 

But henceforth it shall be otherwise. Hereafter I 
will not deny my Jesus and His follov/ers. I will 
confess Thee before men, O Divine Saviour of my 
soul, as Thou wilt confess me before Thy Father. 
Vv^hat is my aim on earth ? Is it merely to please 
worldly-minded men ? Nay, O Father, above all it 
is to make myself worthy of Thee. I live not for 
the fleeting dream of a few years, but for eternity. 

Though the scoffers may smile at my leaving the 
beaten track ; though men, who know no other world 
than the narrow field of their earthly circumstances, 
may misjudge me, I will have the courage to be 
good, and v/ill set an example to others in all such 
virtues as may perhaps prove most difficult to myself 
to perform. 

Ah ! what happiness would it not be to find that I 
have influenced others for good ; that by my example 
I have led others to embrace virtue, to choose eternal 
bliss ! I may do this, and I v/ill do it ; for what can 
prevent me but my own weakness r Amien. 



SINS OF OMISSION. 

Father of every soul, how deep 

Our sins, how oft we fall ! 
Ah ! who the record dread can ksep ? 

Who, Lord can count them all ? 
How oft do we forget Thee, Lord, 
Thy love so fatherly. Thy word, 
The dignit)' of life ! 

Who his own sinful heart that knows, 

Unshamed Thy face can greet ? 
Who shrinks not from Thy light, nor bows 

With trembling, lest he meet 
The judgment that his thoughts confess 
Thy might demands. Thy holiness — 
Who can before Thee stand ? 

Not one — and this Thy pity moves j 

Thou will'st that we shall live. 
Not die — and guard'st us with Thy love, 

And wilt with joy forgive. 
To Thee, who hast the power, the will, 
We pray with tears for mercy still, 
O pardoning Comforter. 

(James iv, 17.) 

When we speak of the value of other men, when 
we praise the goodness of persons more or less 
known to us, how uncertain is not frequently the 
standard by which we measure them ! Nay, even 
respecting our own worth we often form the most 
erroneous notions, because we compare ourselves 
with others whom we know to have been guilty of 
some special fault or other, and in so doing we are 
penetrated, if not by that pharisaical pride which Jesus 



I 



286 SINS OF OMISSION. 

SO Strongly condemned, yet by a feeling akin to it, and 
which makes us incHned to say : " I thank Thee, my 
God, that I am not hke one of these ! " 

We generally deem ourselves justified in consider- 
ing any person as below us in worth, who has com- 
mitted some fault of which we have not yet been 
guilty y which in our actual circumstances and frame 
of mind we are not tem.pted to commit ; or v/hich, 
in our special position, we could not commit. But 
are we therefore better than he who has erred in this 
direction ? 

There are undoubtedly persons who, in their ov/n 
way, and judged according to the circumstances amid 
which they are placed, are more pure and virtuous- 
minded than I am, yet who have been guilty of some 
gross misdem.eanor which has justly brought down 
upon them the contempt of their fellow-citizens, and 
the punishment of the law. Their education, their 
temperament, and various other causes have perhaps 
led them, in violation of their better will, to commit 
offences of v/hich our education, our temperam.ents, 
and surrounding circumstances render it quite imx- 
possible that v/e should be guilty. But are v/e 
therefore better than they ? Have we been exposed 
to powerful temptations, and victoriously proved the 
strength of our principles in spite of the force of 
outv/ard allurements, and of the excitem^ent of inward 
passions ? 

Hov/ ofcen do we not condem^n with hard-hearted 
severity som^e unhappy criminal who, in a fearful 
moment of uncontrollable violence^ has become a 
murderer, and has with perfect justice been seized 
by the officers of the law and punished accordingly ! 



J 



sms OF OMISSION. 287 

He has become a murderer, and yet, except in this 
point of his unconquerable passion, he was perhaps 
one of the kindest, most benevolent of men. He 
has deserved his punishment, no doubt ; nothing can 
justify or excuse the terrible deed he committed ; his 
deep-felt repentance cannot undo what has been done. 
But am I a better man than he, because as yet I have 
no murder on my conscience ? Can I, in the depths 
of my heart, praise my own moderation and gentle- 
ness, when perhaps these supposed virtues spring 
solely from my natural timidity and indolence r 

How often is some fallen maiden spoken of with a 
malignant sneer, or with proud disdainful pity, while 
her stern judges hug themselves with satisfaction, 
thanking God that they are not as she ! Yet, O re- 
lentless sister ! perhaps the unhappy one whom thou 
so o;reatlv despisest was m.ore chaste in heart than 
thou. Perhaps she loved virtue m.ore earnestly and 
deeply; perhaps she has sustained more conflicts with 
passion — conflicts v/hich the eye of the Almighty 
alone witnessed — until in some unhappy moment, 
forgetful of herself and of all that is holy and pure, 
she succumbed. Thou, O severe judge of thy erring 
sister, thou mayst indeed boast of never having been 
guilty of any serious false step ; but canst thou put 
down this to thine own merit ? Wert thou ever 
placed in a position to have such dangerous feeliiigs 
awakened in thee ? Is it thy love of virtue that has 
kept thee in the right path ; or is it m^erely fear of 
danger, or perhaps even want of opportunity that has 
saved thee ? Have thy heart and thy imagination 
never been polluted ? 

When the adulteress was brought before Jesus 



288 



SINS OF OMISSION, 



Christ, He, instead of condemning her, exclaimed : 
" Let him who feels himself guiltless throw the first 
stone!" And ought we not in the present day to 
recall to mind these words whenever some erring 
fellow-creature is made known to us^ and his fault is 
brought into the broad light of day, while the know- 
ledge of our errors lies hidden in the secret recesses 
of our own hearts ? We must not consider ourselves 
to be more perfect, merely because we have never 
as yet drawn upon ourselves the attention of the world 
by some grave offence, or some striking criminal act. 

It is true that, in common life, those are termed 
good, and are considered persons of unblemished re- 
putation, who have no decided blot upon their 
character ; and many no doubt think that it is suffi- 
cient merit to be able to assert that no one can bring 
a complaint against them ; and believe that this gives 
them a claim upon the esteem of their felloW-citizens. 

But is it really a merit not to be a criminal ? Is 
the wealthy man deserving of praise because he is not 
a thief or a robber ; or is the enfeebled old man praise- 
worthy because he is not a seducer of innocence ; or 
the timid man, because he is not a bully and an as- 
sassin ? Can we appear before God with light hearts, 
feeling sure of His approbation, when we can say no 
more in our own favour than that we have not deceived 
or betrayed others ; that we are not drunkards, or 
slanderers ? Are acts v^hich we have not committed 
really actions ? And can we demand to reap where 
we have not sown ? 

Nay, do not deceive yourselves. God cannot be 
mocked ! Our duty is not to do the least possible evil, 
but the most good possible. " That servant," says 



i 



SINS OF OMISSION. 289 

Christ, " which knew his Lord's will, and prepared not 
himself, neither did according to his will, shall be 
beaten with many stripes." (Luke xii. 47.) To have 
omitted to do the good which we have it in our power 
to do, is in itself a crime. " To him that knov/eth to 
do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin." (James 
iv. 17.) 

The greater number of mortals being only intent 
upon securing earthly advantages — thinking merely of 
their houses, their comforts, their amusements— never 
rise above the vulgar or the commonplace. No one 
can with right allege anything against them, they say; 
but just as little can their own consciences commend 
them. They are far too timid and too indolent to do 
evil ; but they are equally timid and indolent in regard 
to doing what is right and good. They think that they 
have done as m.uch as can be expected from them when 
they have helped to carry out some work of benefi- 
cence, which they have taken part in either because 
it was in accordance with their temperament, or to 
escape from ennui^ or from a desire to win the appro- 
bation of others. Alas ! this is not virtue. These" 
people are, on the contrary, poor, contemptible sinners; 
for they have never made an effort, and have only 
done that v/hich, for many reasons, they could not 
help doing. 

" To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it 
not, to him it is sin ! " Such is the word of God. 

Every human being who has reached years of 
discretion, knows the duties that are incumbent on 
him. Even if he have neither father nor mother, nor 
teacher, to impress upon him his duties towards God, 
towards his fellow-men, and towards the animals, a 

u 



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290 SINS OF OMISSION. 

voice will avv'aken within him that will tell him what 
is right and v/hat is wrong. Go forth into the most 
distant regions of the world inhabited by men ; how- 
ever rude and barbarous they may be, you will find 
that they know how to distinguish between right and 
wrong. For the Deity reveals Plimself in the reason 
and inner consciousness of all men, so that no one can 
excuse himself, and the Christian least of all. Because 
that which is perhaps but a dim and vague conception 
in the mind of the barbarous heathen, Jesus has placed 
before His followers in language of unequalled lucidity. 
We know the words in v/hich He revealed to us the 
holy v/ill of our Creator ; we know His life, so full of 
innocence, justice, love, and self-sacrifice for the wel- 
fare of man : it is a mirror held up to us, that we may 
conform ourselves to the image therein. How then 
can we excuse ourselves with ignorance, when we 
fail to do the good on earth that we have the pov/er 
to do ? 

Nor can any one complain with justice that he lacks 
opportunities for performing meritorious acts, and for 
being useful to his fellow-creatures ; for not a day 
passes v/ithout many such occasions occurring, had 
we but strength and courage to avail ourselves of 
them. 

It is true, Vv^e may not be able to carry out all the 
good v/hich we may wish to effect ; but let us beware 
not to fix our attention so exclusively on the aim 
which we cannot attain, that we neglect that v/hich 
lies nearer to us, and which v/e may accomplish with 
far smaller means. It is a common fault with many 
to look far beyond their appointed sphere of activity, 
and to deplore that they cannot engage in this or that 



I 



SINS OF OMISSION. 29 1 ' 

beneficent undertaking, because their circumstances 
will not admit of it; or that they are not in the place 
of some other person, in which case they would be 
so much more useful and active. 

Confine your views to your own sphere : it is 
wide enough to allow free scope to your piety and to 
all your virtues. Say not, v/ere I as rich as such a 
one, I would make a more worthy use of my money. 
If so, why dost thou not make a m^ore w^orthy use of 
the smaller m.eans that are at thy commiand ? Thou 
hast' sufficient to allow of thy giving away a con- 
siderable portion of it without injuring thyself and 
thy family. Vv~hy dost thou not at least supply such 
small superfluity as thou hast, to assuage the sufferings 
of others, instead of using it to increase thine own 
comforts, to swell the number of thy amusements, to 
gratify thy palate with better wines and more expen- 
sive viands r Or if thy circumstances be so restricted 
that thou canst not spare anything for others, hast 
thou not the power of speech ? Hast thou no v/ealthy 
acquaintance, from v/hom thou mightest, by exerting 
thyself a little, obtain help for those that need it ? It 
is always easier to speak for others than to speak for 
ourselves. - 

Say not, had I the power of the great sovereigns, I 
would give to the Vv'orld the peace it is sighing for ; I 
v/ould restore amity, Vv^ell-being, and concord am^ong 
nations. For v/hy dost thou not carry out such praise- 
worthy work within thine own sphere r Why dost 
thou not make peace with thine own enemiies ? Why 
dost thou so proudly refuse to offer thy hand in recon- 
ciliation to those who have offended thee ? Why dost 
thou not resist the temptation to scoff' at the failings of 

u 2 



292 SINS OF OMISSION. 

Others, which causes so much ill-will ? Why art thou 
so weak as to hold thy peace when others are spoken 
ill of in thy presence, or to look with indifference at the 
misunderstandings existing among thy acquaintances, 
instead of endeavouring to persuade the angry friends 
to be mutually indulgent and forgiving ? Or why dost 
thou even encourage them in their hard judgments, or 
by carrying tales between them, widen the breach that 
separates them ? 

Say not, had I chosen this or that profession, did I 
hold this or that office, how active, unwearying, and 
useful should I not be ! But in my present vocation 
I am hampered, and am not able to do one-thousandth 
part of that for which I feel the capacity within me. 
Why art thou not then, with this superior capacity, 
the foremost of all in thy narrower sphere ? Why 
dost thou not prove by the way in which thou fillest 
the place thou occupiest that thou art worthy of a 
wider field of action ? He who knows not how to 
make his one talent productive, why should he have 
more entrusted to him ? But if thou hast once at- 
tained the highest degree of perfection in thy trade or 
thy profession, how easy will it not be for thee to 
extend thy useful activity far beyond its limits ? 

"To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it 
not, to him it is sin." 

There is no human being who may not find each 
day of his life at least one opportunity of doing good. 
This is true, even of the beggar in the street. But in 
order to discover this opportunity, we must be intent 
on doing so. Unfortunately, this is what we are not. 
And tliis is omitting to do good. Do not therefore 
accuse Providence of having placed thee in circum- 



SINS OF OMISSION. 293 

Stances in which thou hast no opportunity of exer- 
cising thy virtues. Rather accuse thine own indif- 
ference which prevents thee from opening thine eyes 
and seeing what hes nearest to thee. 

It is not opportunities, but the most essential quali- 
ties for doing good which thou lackest, namely, sincere 
love of thy fellow-creatures, and a true desire to be 
useful. He who possesses these will not fail to dis- 
cover some means of doing a kind service to every 
one with whom he comes in contact, and even to be 
useful to the absent. He will always be able to save 
something from his necessities to help others, or to 
promote some public undertaking for the general 
welfare ; and if he have not money to bestow, he 
will at least give kind words, good advice, and com- 
fort and consolation where needed. 

Ask thyself in the quiet of the evening, after each 
day's work : " Hast thou done all the good that thou 
mightest have done ? Hast thou fully availed thyself 
of every little opportunity offered thee, to exercise 
thv virtues ? '^ And if thou dost not remember that 
any such have occurred, then ask thyself this one 
question more : '' What should I have done under 
the circum^stances, had I desired to be a pattern of be- 
nevolence and kindness ? " Thy conscience will then 
perhaps reply, " And thou hast not done it ! " '' To 
him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to 
him it is sin.'^ 

And the easier it would have been for us to do 
the good which we have omitted, the greater is our 
sin in the eyes of God, the incorruptible Judge of 
our worth, and the greater also in the judgment of 
our own conscience. For not only is every mortal 



294 ^^^^^ ^^ OMISSION. 

endowed with a knowledge of what is right, but each 
one has an especial aptitude for some particular virtue. 
He who is by nature tender-hearted and full of 
feeling, can have no difficulty in performing the noble 
duty of showing sympathy with, and pity for, the 
unfortunate. Why, then, does he not cultivate this 
divine instinct of his heart ? Why does he even 
do violence to it by endeavouring to smother its ut- 
terances ? Alas ! at one moment he is held back 
from performing some act of kindness by vanity, by 
fear of what others will say ; at another moment he 
is prevented by his love of ease from visiting the 
homes of the poor of whom he has heard, or from 
obtaining further information as to the best m^eans 
of helping them out of their misery. At another 
tim.e it is unpardonable levity that interferes with 
the fulfilment of his duty ; and then again, it is his 
love of luxury which absorbs the means with which 
others might have been helped. 

He who is by nature courageous and determined, 
cannot find it difficult to adopt the cause of the 
oppressed. Why, then, does he, being an enemy of 
all injustice, act so little in accordance with his noble 
disposition ? Alas ! it is self-interest which causes 
him to be silent in spite of his better feelings ; it is all 
kinds of considerations for persons whose favour he 
would be sorry to lose, v/hich induce him to allow 
injustice to pass for justice. 

For him. v/ho enjoys general esteem, and who exer- 
cises an influence over the opinions and the v/ill of his 
fellow-citizens, it must be an easy matter to start or 
to promote numerous undertakings in regard to which 
others, with their besc will and utmost endeavours, 



SINS OF OMISSION, 295 

could efFect nothing. The mere expression of his 
approbation, a single v/ord of encouragement from 
him, will often suffice to accomplish a useful object. 
"Why, then, does he not speak the word ? Alas ! 
because after all he is indifferent to the matter, and he 
would not take the trouble to reflect upon its im- 
portance y or because his indolence is satisfied with 
the counter question : ^' Why should I mix myself 
up with things that do not concern me : " Or, be- 
cause the undertaking would only -be of importance 
to a stranger, or to a city or village with which he 
has no connexion. 

He is doubly responsible who not only omits to do 
the good which he has frequent opportunities of 
effecting, but also that v/hich his natural capacities, 
and the means he possesses render it especially easy 
for him to accomiplish. In such cases the neglect 
of the higher duty evidently springs from some vice 
which has grown strong v/ithin him, v/hether its namiC 
be self-seeking, self-love, envy, pride, or indolence, 
frivolity, or thoughtlessness. 

Thou lovest those who love thee, and v/no flatter 
thee ; thou doest good unto them from whom thou 
expectest services in return. What merit is this ? 
Do not the heathens as much, and even the animals ? 
Jesus Christ has taught thee higher duties, and if 
thou failest in these, oh ! do not flatter thyself that 
thy heart has any real v/orth ! Thou dost not 
commit crimes, thou dost not deceive, slander, steal, 
or persecute thy fellovz-men. But what merit is 
this ? Even the dead stone that thou sti-ikest with 
thy foot does not this. 

How poor wilt thou not be, O unhappy mortal, 



296 



SINS OF OMISSION. 



when thy undying soul, gifted with great capacities 
for a higher and eternal existence, with knowledge of 
truth and falsehood, with a strong will to effect what 
it wishes, shall be called to render its account, anci 
can boast of nothing more than of having remained 
unsullied by gross crimes ? Can the unfeeling stone 
lay claim to the bliss of Heaven ; and can the indolent 
servant, who has buried his master's talent in the 
earth, expect to be entrusted with more ? 

How poor wilt thou not find thyself, unhappv man^ 
when thy fearful self-deception ceases ! Thou thinkest 
that though not graced with many virtues, thou art 
nevertheless pure from any great wrong ; but see the 
innumerable occasions on which thou hast omitted to 
do what thou knewest to be right and good are so 
many sins for which thou art answerable. The solemn 
hour will one day strike, when thou wilt shudder at 
thine own indifference in regard to all this good that 
has been left undone ; for indifference towards a virtue 
which we had it in our power to exercise, is in- 
difference towards eternity, in which retribution will 
be meted out to thee ; indifference towards the God of 
Holiness. Every opportunity to do good which pre- 
sents itself to us is, as it were, an invitation from God 
to our hearts, to devote themselves to Him — a prayer 
of our good Angel that we will become more Godlike. 

And woe is me, how shall I stand before Thee, O 
Heavenly Father, when my days and hours, and my 
many sins of omission are counted up before Thee ? 
However great may be Thy mercy, what hope can I 
have of a higher existence and higher happiness, when 
I have wilfully neglected to estabhsh my claims ? 

I confess before Thee my weaknesses and my short- 



SINS OF OMISSION. 297 

comings. Yea, I am a sinner, and a far greater sinner 
than I often thought I was. My sins of omission are 
the crimes that weigh me down, and I cannot justify 
them before Thee. 

But my life is not yet at an end. All-merciful 
God, Thy long-suffering still bears with Thine un- 
worthy child. I have, perhaps, before me a long series 
of days, during which I may show more than barren 
repentance, during which I may give proofs of a will 
stronger in virtue and more pleasant in Thy sight. 
My life is not yet at an end, and henceforward I will 
look joyfully for every opportunity that may occur 
for me to contribute to the welfare and happiness 
of others, be it by word, by deed, or by feeling. O 
Father, Thou dost not demand more of Thy children 
than they can perform ! Why then should I not 
gladly do all that my strength will admit of? Ah ! 
forgive my many sins of omission ! Father, forgive 
us our trespasses ! Am.en. 



MAN, THE AUTHOR OF HIS OWN 
FATE. 

How often is the bliss 

God-given, thrown away 5 
How often do the lusts 

Of flesh, to sin betray ; 
While still unwarned^ the foot 

Shuns not the serpent's sting 
That pierces though unseen, 

Hidden where fiowrets spring. 

V/hat noble is, and good. 

What can my brethren serve, 
What on the path of life 

Can best from falls preserve j 
What good men honour most. 

Gives strength in sorrow's hour, 
Is worth my earnest search, 

And lies within my power. 

(i Cor. iii. 6-9.) 

Were not all human beings convinced that they may 
by forethought and judgment establish their own 
happiness, they would make no efrort to improve 
their condition on earth, but would sit down patiently 
and expect everything from, the favour of Heaven. 
However, without labour there is no reward ; without 
trouble no gain, and dangers surround us which only 
prudence can avert. 

The wisdom of God has ordained, that man shall 
not live in a state of indolent helplessness. There- 
fore has he been endowed v/ith free will to do as he 
listeth, and with understanding to discriminate and to 



liij 



MAN, THE AUTHOR OF HIS OJVN FATE, 299 

choose what is best. Nay, divine wisdom even drives 
him by the hard law of necessity to conquer his indo- 
lence, and to prepare for himself a happier condition 
through the exertion of the capacities with which 
he has been gifted. To the beasts of the fields Pro- 
vidence has given raiment of hair and v/ool ; the birds 
it has clad in feathers to protect them against the 
inclemencies of weather and temperature ; but man it 
has left bare and naked. So also the animals have 
been provided with natural v/eapons of defence against 
their enemies, with rare strength and wonderful swift- 
ness, while man has received nothing from nature 
wherewith he can defend himself against the horns of 
the bull, the strength of the lion, the claws of the 
tiger, or the fangs of the serpent. She has, however, 
given him understanding and reason ; that he may 
invent and provide his own raiment, his own weapons, 
and everything that he requires. She has forced him 
to exert his mental powers, in order to gain the mastery 
over the animals ; to win from the barren earth the 
means of nourishment ; and not only to build for 
himself, in common v/ith his fellows, houses, villages, 
and fortified towns, but to devise laws and regulations 
which may ensure peace, and harmony, and security to 
all. 

Now, as it is the Divine will that every human 
being should by the use of his understanding and his 
other faculties prepare his own fate in this world, we 
cannot but look upon that trust in God as blind and 
exaggerated, and that piety as very inert, which in- 
duces men to lay down their work in the hope that 
God will not fail to provide v/hat is good and necessary 
for them. It is indolent piety to believe that we can 



300 MAN, rUE AUTHOR OF HIS OWN FATE. 

effect everything by prayers and church-going, and 
that we may exclusively by the grace of God, or what 
men term a lucky chance, attain to riches, honours, 
and consideration. It is false confidence in God to 
believe that, in order to be pleasant in His sight, and 
to become a participator in eternal bliss hereafter, 
it is sufEcient to rely upon the death of Jesus, on the 
mercy of God, and on the prayers of saints and other 
men ; and that it is by no means necessary to lead a 
life of strict duty, rich in every virtue, and in acts of 
private and public beneficence. 

Nay, it v/as not without a purpose that the Creator 
bestowed upon us such varied faculties. He v/ho 
neglects to use these neglects the talent intrusted to 
him, and his perversity will bring destruction on 
himself. 

But just as senseless as it is to expect everything 
from God and nothing from ourselves ; rather to await 
the good fortune that may befall us by some incal- 
culable concatenation of circumstances than to pre- 
pare comfort for ourselves by industry, order, and 
economy : just as foolish is it, on the other hand, to 
rely exclusively on our own strength, and to expect 
nothing from the grace of God. How poor are we 
not if He be not v/ith us ! How helpless, if He doth 
not give His blessing to our endeavours, that is to say, 
if He doth not so guide all circumstances that that 
which our industry accompHshes, or our thoughts in- 
vent, may turn out advantageous for us ! In vain 
may the husbandman till his field in the sweat of his 
brow : rain, wind, and hail-storms may pass over it 
with devastating power. In vain may we have laid 
plans for our happiness : other persons may come 



qi 



MAN, THE AUTHOR OF HIS OWN FATE. 30I 

between us and our objects, and, without being aware 
of it, destroy all our prospects. Hence the old and 
well-known proverb : Man proposes, God disposes ! 

The most important events in our lives are fre- 
quently the consequences of circumstances on which 
we had least of all calculated; and such things as v/e 
have spent much trouble upon as frequently bring us 
no advantage. Yea, the fate of battles, the fate of 
large empires, has often depended upon the smallest 
so-called accident, which has defeated all the calcu- 
lations of men. 

Our will, our strength, and our judgment are in 
our own power, but circumstances are in the power 
of God alone ; and through these He governs the fate 
of men— through these He blesses or renders futile 
their endeavours. 

How then can we say ,that man is the author of 
his own fate ? Are these meaningless words ? They 
are so, if by our fate we mean matters which are be- 
yond our control ; if we fancy that our power can 
effect impossibilities. As impossible as it is for a mor- 
tal to stretch forth his hand and stay the sun in its 
course, or guide the stars, just as impossible is it for 
him to determine the wills, the thoughts^ and the ac- 
tions of all his fellow-men in accordance with his 
own purposes and to his own advantage. These 
things lie beyond the sphere of his power. But then 
his real fate is not dependant upon them, but merely 
the state of his physical being, of his fortune, and of 
his social relations. He whose happiness is entirely 
founded upon such outward events has buik it upon 
a very frail foundation indeed. He will ever be the 
victim of changing circumstances, which at one mo- 
ment raise him up, and at another lay him low. 



302 MAN, THE AUTHOR OF HIS OF/N FATE, 

It is not man's physical being, or whatever has re- 
ference to that, which is the most important, but his 
spirit and all that relates to this. But the realm of 
the spirit does not extend beyond its own self; and 
when the spirit speaks of a fate of which it is the 
author, it speaks of that which relates to itself exclu- 
sively, and not of that in which it has only a share as 
long as it is clad in an earthly covering. To say that 
the human spirit is the author of its own fate means, 
therefore, that it has the power to be happy, indepen- 
dently of outward circumstances. 

It has this power, for God has endowed it v/ith 
free Vv^ill, and with the requisite perceptions and 
strength. For the acquisition of outward means and 
outward happiness He has given it the capacity that 
is developed by experience ; for the establishment of 
permanent inward happiness. He has given it the 
wisdom of Jesus. The former changes according to 
circumstances ; the latter is unchangeable, and is ever 
guided by the eternal laws of God, 

To these laws of the Deity belongs the rule which 
prevails throughout life and throughout the universe : 

THAT GOOD IS INVARIABLY FOLLOWED BY GOOD 
CONSEQUENCES, AND EVIL IS AS INVARIABLY FOL- 
LOWED BY EVIL CONSEQUENCES, AND ULTIMATELY 
LEADS TO ITS OWN DESTRUCTION. Good is the will 

of God revealed to us through Jesus ; evil is the set- 
ting aside of what is truly good, for the gratification 
of sensual desires. 

He therefore who always wills and does what is 
right, is the creator of innumerable good consequences. 
Every righteous action is, as it were, a useful seed 
which v/e sow in life, and which will not fail to bear 
blessings. We surround ourselves with the fruits of 



MAN, IHE AUTHOR OF HIS OF/N FATE. 303 

our virtuous deeds; and from the contemplation of 
these arises the purest pleasure, the highest happi- 
ness — a happiness founded on self-approval. 

It is possible that though enjoying this happiness 
\YQ may be poor in outward possessions ; it is possible 
that v^e may even lose such earthly goods as v^e held 
until then, and this m.ay distress us ; but our inward 
contentment it cannot disturb ; our former cheerfulness 
will soon return, for we have not allov/ed ourselves to 
be dependant on the transient things of the world. 
Only he that does not know himself, and know truth, 
only he who places his happiness in the possession of 
earthly comforts, can be deprived for ever of his 
peace and cheerfulness of mind, by the ruin of his 
earthly well-being. There have been men who have 
put an end to their own life with guilty hands, because 
their bodies could no longer secure all the enjoyments 
that they most coveted. 

Good invariably leads to good. And the bene- 
ficent consequences are not only evinced in the cheer- 
fulness of our minds — -in the happy feeling that v/e 
are numbered am.ong God's children, and that after 
this dream of life is over, a far more blissful lot 
av/aits us — but sometim.es they extend even to our 
earthly relations. The righteous man, the friend of 
humanit}^, the benefactor of the needy, the peace- 
m.aker, the meek in heart, is he not surrounded by 
the confidence and the love of all v/ho knov/ him ? 
If musfortunes fall upon him, what silent, hearty 
sympathy beamis upon him from the looks of all ! 
How many do not v/ish to help him v/ho was ever 
ready to help others ! And the loving, thrifty, care- 
ful mxOther of a famuly, who does not value her ? 



304 MAN, THE AUTHOR OF HIS OWN FATE, 

Who does not honour her virtuous Hfe among her 
children, her friendly yet dignified conduct towards her 
domestics, her courtesy and desire to serve acquaint- 
ances and neighbours, her unassuming modesty, vi^hich 
contrasts so beautifully with the vanity and love of 
display in others ? 

It is God's will that what is good shall inevitably, 
even here below, lead to good. There is no truth, 
therefore, which has been more fully confirmed by 
experience, than that virtue is the best policy. We 
cannot always know w^hat it will be most expedient to 
do under given circumstances ; but every man knows 
what is right and noble to do under all circum- 
stances. Our understanding is ever liable to make 
mistakes, but the conscience seldom errs. The will 
to do what is best is alwavs in our power ; but the 
result is in the hand of God. 

Therefore, if thou wouldst secure to thyself a 
happy fate, think not so much of the consequences 
of thy actions as of their character: their kindliness 
and righteousness. Thy power is limited ; thou wilt 
not be able to effect more than a small portion of the 
good which thou wouldst fain see prevailing in the 
world, but each one contributes according to his capa- 
city. One planteth, another watereth ; but it is God 
who giveth the increase. But " every man shall re- 
ceive his own reward according to his own labour.^' 
(i Cor. iii. 8.) 

Evil, such is the Divine law, ever tends to evil, 
and must at last effect its own destruction. He who 
chooseih evil, prepareth misery for himself. Do not 
all the experiences of life confirm the unfailing 
workings of this Divine rule ? Behold the ambitious 



MAN, THE AVTHOR OF HIS OWN FArE. 305 

man : his life is a prey to never-ending struggles and 
anxieties ! Behold the miser : he is dying of want on 
his heaps of gold ! Behold the voluptuary : his pallid 
cheeks, his sunken eyes, tell you of the poison that 
is consuming his blood and destroying his nerves ! 
Behold the drunkard : he bears the stigm.a of his vice 
stamped upon him, and with blunted mind and senses, 
and tortured by disease, he hurries towards an early 
grave ! Behold the treacherous and malicious man : 
he is shunned by all, he has no friends ; he falls, and 
all look upon his ruin as well merited ! Behold the 
proud spendthrift : he is ruined, and is frequently 
oblieed to beo; assistance of those whom he used dis- 
dainfully to overlook ! 

Why is it that so fev/ persons are neither quite 
happy nor quite unhappy ? — Because they are not 
sufficiently depraved to givp themselves entirely up to 
evil, yet have not courage enough always to act vir- 
tuously. They oscillate unsteadily between right and 
wrong, and, in . consequence, between contentment 
and misery. The good which they do and which 
they love, brings its reward in like manner as the 
evil which they think or commit brings its punish- 
ment, by making them the victims of vexatious cir- 
cumstances of various kinds. If thou wouldst be 
thoroughly happy thou must not be content with being 
only partially good. 

The vicious are the authors of their own misery, 
of the diseases, of the anxieties, and despair, of which 
they are the prey. Who can deny this ? And so the 
righteous may, in like manner, be the authors of an in- 
destructible peace of mind, which is the highest happi- 
ness, and of which no human power can deprive them. 

X 



306 MA1>^, THE AUTHOR OF HIS OWN FATE, 

But man has the capacity to do even more than 
this. He is not only capable of securing unvarying 
inv^ard happiness by cultivating a virtuous disposition ; 
he is, by the wisdom of Jesus, enabled to improve 
his outv^ard circumstances also, and even if these 
should be very adverse, of triumphing over them. 
This is the highest that man can achieve on earth, 
and when this is accomplished, he has restored the 
image of God in his heart, and has raised himself 
above all earthly sorrows. Storms may rage around 
him, but he has attained a pinnacle where they cannot 
disturb him. 

But how is he to reach this height ? Not by ordi- 
nary cleverness — not by the prudence learnt through 
manifold experiences ; but by the help of Religion ; 
by penetrating himself with its truths, and living in 
accordance with them. What Jesus taught must be 
his thoughts. What Jesus was, he must be. Being 
m.ade in the image of God, he must live in and for 
God only. By so doing, he v/ill create for himself a 
fate that will lift him high above every earthly 
event. 

In order to reach this divinely-exalted goal, thou 
must accustom thyself to the thought that thy life on 
earth must be exclusively devoted to thy spirit ; that 
nothing here below is truly thine ovv-n except thy 
immortal spirit; that thou hast to perfect thy spirit 
only, and that all else, rank and honours, v/ealth and 
learning, beauty and accomplishments, health and 
sickness, friendship and persecutions, earthly happi- 
ness and unhappiness, are only the means by which 
thou art to attain thy ultimate and highest object. 
Accustom thyself to the thought that none of the 



MAN, THE AUTHOR OF HIS OWN FATE, 307 

outward things which thou possessest can remain 
thine for ever ; that they are only lent to thee ; that 
even that which thou hast earned by thy industry is 
perishable ; that friends, parents, brother, sister, 
spouse, and child, have only a short time measured 
out to them to v/alk by thy side. Accustom thyself 
to the thought that thy spirit, /. e. thy true self, is 
making but a short sojourn in this world, and must 
soon return home again ; that thou art here only on a 
mission from thy Heavenly Father,' to carry out His 
will in many things, after which thou wilt be called 
away. Accustom thyself to the thought that God 
alone is thy eternal Father ; that all human spirits 
without exception are thy brethren ; that their bodies, 
their social rank, &C.5 are but the raiments in which 
they must be clad during their stay on earth. 

When thou art thoroughly penetrated by these 
sublime thoughts, which thou wilt find pervading all 
the teachings of Jesus, the v/orld v/iil assume in thine 
eyes a very different aspect from that in v/hich it has 
hitherto appeared to thee. Thou wilt be ashamed of 
letting thyself be held in subjection by the temptations 
and desires which spring from^ the nature of thy body ; 
thou wilt be ashamed of leaving the mission with 
which God intrusted thee in this world unfulfilled, in 
order that thou mayst toy with the dust through 
which thou v/alkest ; thou wilt learn to distinguish 
realities from mere semblances ; thou v/ilt discern 
clearly that God did not send thee into this v/orld that 
thou m.ightest learn to till fields and build houses, to 
fill posts of honour, or to wrap thyself in costly 
apparel, but to be His fellow-labourer in the work 
of accompnshing the true happine 

X 2 



308 MAN, THE AUTHOR OF HIS OWN FATE. 

(l Cor. iii. 9.) Thou wilt then understand clearly 
the full and deep meaning of Christ's words : '' Seek 
ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness ; 
and all these things shall be added unto you," (Matt. 
vi. 33.) Therefore, when ye have wherewithal to 
feed and to clothe yourselves, be content. 

Thou wilt live, not in order to heap one earthly 
good upon another, and at length to be torn away 
from thy treasures by death ; but to make all those 
who surround thee wiser and happier in as for as in 
thee lies. The happiness of others will ever be thy 
principal object ; thou wilt neither know nor desire 
any other felicity for thyself. 

Thou wilt only smile when the malignity of some 
treacherous mortal deprives thee of thy wealth ; he 
merelv robs thee of the means of beino; useful to him- > 
self and others. Thou wilt only smile .when the 
changes that belong to all things earthly disappoint 
thee as to thy social position, thy influence over 
others, and the consideration in which thou art held. 
For, after all, it is of little importance whether thou 
be clad in fine linen and purple, or in the coarsest 
garb : both will eventually perish ; both are of equally 
small value to thy spirit. Therefore, what does it 
signify if thou be called prince or beggar during this 
short dream of life : it will neither increase or di- 
minish thy value in thine own eyes, nor give thee a 
higher or a lower standing in God's universe, or 
in the realm of spirits ? That which thou art in thy- 
self and before God, that thou wilt remain. Verily, 
He, the Most High, has no respect of persons, ac- 
cording to the inventions of human vanity and to tke 
measurements of human littleness. 



MAN, THE AUTHOR OF HIS OWN FATE. 309 

Thou wilt only smile when sickness lays thee 
prostrate. Thou wilt see in this nothing more than a 
disordered state of an instrument which thou knewest 
beforehand was very frail. Perhaps God will take it 
from thee in order to provide thee with a more perfect 
one. Perhaps God would merely remind thee not to 
place too much value on what is perishable. Let it be 
sufficient for thee, that in the midst of bodily suffer- 
ings thou canst rejoice in the health of thy mind : thy 
soul has suffered no injury. Thou v/ilt be able to 
bear with calmness the death of those thou lovest best 
on earth. They had a vocation like thyself. The 
Divine miisslon on which they were sent into the 
world has only been com.pleted a few days earlier than 
thine. They have reached the goal, and having 
finished their work, God will open for them a ntw 
and more glorious career : ^the same as will be opened 
for thee in future. Though their earthly coil may 
moulder in the earth, it was not this that thou didst 
love, but their soul, and this remains ever kindred and 
faithful to thee. It dwells in God, and if thou also 
wilt abide in the Lord, no separation will be possible. 
If such be thy thoughts and feelings, what event can 
disturb thy cheerfulness, thy peace of miind, or, in 
other words, thy true and lasting happiness ? Hast 
thou not then been the author of thine own fate, in 
the highest sense of the word ? Art thou not placed 
above the reach of every earthly storm ? 

Such was the bliss Thou didst enjoy on earth, O 
Divine Jesus ! Thou didst despise what was of the 
world, and only didst partake of it in as far as was 
necessary for Thy human nature and Thy activity. 
Thou didst love all the beings that surrounded Thee, 



310 



MAN, THE AUTHOR OF HIS OWN FATE. 



and didst call all God's children thv brethren. Thy 
mission on earth was to redeem a degenerate world 
from the fetters of sin and error, and to emancipate 
spirits from the thraldom of sensual desires ; and this 
vocation Thou didst keep before thine eyes in all Thy 
doings. That the people at one moment proclaimed 
Thee King of Israel, and at another stoned Thee, 
did not disturb Thy Divine serenity. Alas ! erring 
humanity did not comprehend the subhmity of Thy 
mission and of Thy acts. Thou didst not hold it a 
shame to appear in the guise of a servant of all ; Thou 
didst not call it a misfortune, that often Thou didst 
not know where to lay Thy head. Earthly things 
had no value in Thine eyes : Thy life was in Heaven. 
Thou didst bear scorn and persecution, and the shame 
of public degradation , but Thy placid conscience 
lifted Thee above the foolish judgments of m^en. In 
the realm of spirits, O Thou Prince of Spirits, the 
honour and shame that prevail are different from those 
conceived of by benighted, low-minded men. Thy 
life on earth extended over scarcely thirty-six years, 
but Thou didst teach men to despise death, which 
had no terrors for Thee. Saviour of the world. 
Thou didst die, but Thy mission on earth v/as 
divinely accomplished. 

Ah ! let me live in Thee, and die in Thee ! And 
through Thee learn to secure the highest bliss to 
myself ! Amen. 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 

Man's soul to more aspires 

Than earth or Heaven can yield to sense 5 
And. God, who granteth his desires, 
Gives him a great inheritance. 

He guides his earthly course , 

Through time, that he may be 
Led to the perfect source 

Of all felicit)'. 
Till with his powers long tried. 

Strength trained, and courage high. 
To godly deeds applied, 
For these alone he'll sigh 

Then the hard task is done, 

And all his soul is pure delight. 
Henceforward God shall, be his sun, 
And shine on him in splendour bright. 
" Perfection " is the palm 

His own good angel brings. 
And rapture swells the psalm 

He to his Maker sings. 
Eternally to reign 

In glory all divine ; 
God-like thy course sustain. 

While earth and time are thine ! 

(Matt. v. 44.-48.) 

I HAVE but too often seen man in his degradation ; 
but when have I seen him in all his dignity ? 

I have but too often seen him sunk in mere animal 
life, solely intent on gaining his bread by his labour, 
or on accumulating a little more property than his 
neighbour, or on clothing himself in finer apparel ; I 
have seen him indifferent to every pleasure but that 
derived ft'om his inflated self-conceit, or from the 



312 



GREArhmSS OF SOUL. 



gratification of his palate at feasts and entertainments, 
or from the pride he took in having others under his 
command : I have seen him earnestly occupied with 
the improvement of his earthly condition, but com- 
pletely indifferent to the improvement of his heart 
and character, as if this v^ere but a secondary matter ; 
I have seen him bent upon cultivating his mind, and 
upon increasing his knou^ledge and his skill, merely 
for the sake of passing through the v^orld with 
honour (as he terms it), as if the exalted capacities 
of his soul had been bestowed upon him by the 
Almighty for no other purpose than that he might 
become the most cunning, the most skilful, the most 
powerful, and the most dangerous of animals; I have 
seen him without shame allow himself to be governed 
by his caprice, and give himself up without com- 
punction to the sway of his passions, as if it were 
commendable not to put any restraint upon oneself, 
but to give the reins to one's tendencies, instincts, 
and desires, so as to place oneself on a level with the 
animals who are not endowed with, and therefore not 
controlled by, a rational spirit; I have seen him con- 
fessing religion, not from his heart, but in order to 
conform to custom and social propriety ; and I have 
seen him, in consequence, attend church, repeat 
prayers by rote, and go through the sacred perform- 
ances, as if they were but so many parts of a cere- 
monial, which was all that was due to the Lord of 
the universe, the Ruler of destiny, the Judge of the 
quick and the dead ; I have seen him use the religion 
of Christ as a cloak for his crimes, and as a means of 
pacifying his conscience, by madly making himself 
believe that he might rely on the atoning merits of 



GREu^TNESS OF SOUL. . 313 

our Lord and Saviour, and on the death of Jesus as a 
sacrifice for his sins, v/hich has relieved him of all 
fear of condemnation and punishment. 

Alas ! how deeply may man not sink. He has an 
insatiable craving for happiness, and yet he is never 
happy, because he rushes with open eyes into inevit- 
able destruction, as though he were impelled towards 
it by some cruel and unseen power. This power is 
no other than his passions, which corrupt his soul and 
destroy its peace and happiness. 

But v/here shall I find man in the fulness of his 
dignity, as created in the image of God ? Is it the 
Christian who, possessing intimate self-knowledge, is 
ever watching over himself, lest he fall into some 
error, and who exercises a control over all his mental 
em.otions, which raises him far above the great multi- 
tude ? 

It is true he is v/ise and worthy of reverence v/ho 
is able to resist the allurements of sensual pleasures, 
and who, having, emancipated himself from the power 
of the passions, such as amibition, vanity, voluptuous- 
ness, and anger, stands forth a free man among slaves, 
a king among subjects ! He is worthy of reverence 
because no outward might can subdue him, no joy can 
make him lose his self-possession, no misfortune can 
prostrate him : he stands unshaken in the midst of 
storms, forcing everything to bend to him, because he 
remains master of his inclinations and his emotions, 
and never allows them to influence his decisions. He 
is more worthy of admiration than he who subjugates 
nations by the help of other nations, but who cannot 
conquer himself; more worthy of admiration than the 
greatest of artists and scholars, who produce works at 



314 GREATNESS OF SOUL. 

which the world is astounded, but who are unable to 
establish lasting peace and happiness in their own 
minds. 

But is self-control the highest degree of perfection 
which man can reach ? 

Nay, were this so, then Jesus, the God-like 
Enlightener of the world, would not have taught or 
preached higher virtue than many of the sages of 
antiquity. Even before Jesus Christ appeared upon 
earth, the wisest and most virtuous of men had taught 
that self-knov/ledge and self-control are the necessary 
conditions of human dignity ; and, moreover, in their 
ov/n noble lives they set the most touching example 
of these virtues, and proved that they are not above 
the capacity of man, but that every mortal may exercise 
them. They did this, and to this day the world 
honours the names of these truly excellent men. 
O Christians ! who slavishly and cowardly shrink 
from the performance of these heavenly duties, those 
men practised these virtues, though Christ had not yet 
appeared in the world, and notwithstanding that they 
had but obscure and vague presentiments of eternity 
and retribution, of which we have, through Divine 
revelation, obtained awful but rapturous certainty. 
They practised these virtues, yet they were but 
heathens — and you are Christians. 

But Jesus, the Exalted, brought with Plim into the 
world the light of heavenly wisdom, and He demanded 
higher things of man. 

He also demanded that we should seek to attain 
self-knowledge, and that we should probe our ov/n 
hearts. He also demanded that we should practise 
self-control and self-abnegation, because he who does 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 



315 



not hold his lusts and passions in check will be over- 
powered by them, and cannot be a follower of Jesus. 
But even the heathens did this. They spared their 
enemies, they endeavoured to make their friends happy, 
they abhorred the intemperance of the glutton, the 
drunkard, and the voluptuary, and the immoderate 
desires of the over-ambitious ; they despised the folly 
of the proud and of the miserly, the insatiable cravings 
of the covetous, and the meanness of the self-seeking. 
But all this does not constitute the special virtue of 
the Christian. 

Jesus demanded more of man. He demanded of 
us that we should become like unto God : He 
demanded the highest magnanimity of soul of which 
mortals are capable. 

It is not enough, He said, to conquer your anger : 
nay, "Love your enemies,^.biess them that curse you, 
do good to them that hate you, and pray for them 
which despitefully use you, and persecute you , that 
ye may be the children of your Father which is in 
Heaven : for He maketh his sun to rise on the evil 
and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on 
the unjust. For if ye love them which love you, 
what reward have ye ? Do not even the publicans 
[heathens] the same ? And if ye salute your brethren 
only, what do ye more than others ? Do not even 
the publicans [heathens] so ? Be ye therefore per- 
fect, even as your Father which is in Heaven is per- 
fect." (Matt. V. 44— 48.) 

Such is the mental elevation which the Heaven-sent 
Messiah demands of us. It is not sufficient that we 
exercise even such perfect self-control as will prevent 
our feelings and tendencies from leading us into any 



3i6 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 



wrong doing; we must go further, and spread blessings 
and well-being around us, as far as our power extends. 
To be virtuous it is not enough to exercise such 
control over ourselves as never to neglect or to 
transgress a duty : he only is virtuous, who, without 
reference to any outv/ard considerations, without re- 
spect of persons, does good, increases the general 
happiness, and confers benefits even on his enemies. 

This is Christian greatness of soul : this is the 
summit of earthly perfection ! The truly wise man — 
and only the holy follower of Jesus is truly wise — 
feels himself elevated above the plots and machinations 
and passions of common life, and seeks only to impart 
happiness v/here others inflict injury from low selfish- 
ness. He is raised above offences and enmities : he 
does not allow himself to be prevented thereby from 
doing good to those who hate him. His revenge is to 
forgive and forget. He is elevated above the petty 
objects of ordinarv men, whose highest endeavours are 
directed tovv^ards, and whose greatest happiness consists 
in, the attainment of some worldly advantage, some 
sensuous enjoyment. His highest object is to be at 
one with God. Ever watchful of himself, in order to 
keep his heart pure from evil, he does not hate those 
who fail, but looks upon them as what they really are, 
as persons sick in m.ind, whose bodies oppress and 
govern their souls ; as madmen, whose darkened in- 
tellects have marked out a false goal for themselves, 
and who are mistaken in the means by which they 
seek to attain it. But he does not hate them : he only 
pities them, and endeavours by promoting true en- 
lightenment to diminish and to counteract the evil. 
He is elevated above selfishness and self-seeking. He 



GREATNESS OF SO UL, 3 1 7 

does not strive to be the best of men in order to be the 
most honoured : if this were his motive, he could no 
longer be so purely good. He does not do right for 
the sake of a higher reward : if he did this, his virtue 
would no longer be virtue, but calculating selfishness. 
He loves virtue because it is Divine. He wishes to be 
perfect, because his Father in Heaven is peirfect. He 
wishes to be at one with God, because his spirit 
emanates from God, and aspires towards the exalted 
source of its beins;. 

This is the true mxagnanimity of heart and mind 
which Jesus demands of His disciples. Love and 
well-doing is its essence, and modest meekness its 
veil. It strives after the highest goal, and therefore 
looks upon all that is born of the earth and will return 
again to earth as the lowest. It feels that man's 
true home is in eternity, ^-and therefore sees in this 
earthly life only the first step in his endless career. 
It honours human laws and institutions as means of 
securing general well-being ; but truth, justice, and 
goodness it places above all human rules and regu- 
lations — unlike m^ost mortals, who, in the splendour 
of their own self-invented means, forget the sublime 
but distant object for which they are instituted. God 
is everything to it in this world, because God dwells 
in all things, and all things are in God. It loves 
this life, because it is existence in God ; but it 
recoils not from death, which is a mere transition to 
another mode of existence. 

O Jesus, such is the religion, the revelation, v/hich 
Thou didst vouchsafe to man ! Such greatness of 
soul is a fruit of the Christian faith. But what am I ? 
Nay, I cannot as yet call myself a Christian ! What 



3l8 GREATNESS OF SGUL. 

faith has been mine ? I cannot say that I have held 
fast the Christian faith, for my religion has been a 
cowardly vacillation between sin and virtue, between 
God and mere earthly objects. O Jesus, Thy holy 
word falls Hke a ray of light into my heart, and I now 
see more clearly the meaning of Thy heavenly doc- 
trine : '^ Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father 
which is in Heaven is perfect." 

Christian magnanimity of soul does not consist in 
total neglect and suppression of all bodily wants and 
desires, or in entire renunciation of all the earthly 
joys of life. Nay, my body is an instrument lent to 
me hy God, through which I am to influence, and 
v/ork upon, the world around me ; and this instru- 
ment I must not hold light, nor must I neglect it. 
If I did this, I should deprive my spirit of the me- 
dium through which it is to effect even its own 
improvement. But I must never forget that the 
body is but a tool. When I have taken care that 
it shall be healthy, strong, firm, agile, and skilful in 
many ways, I have done for it all that is required. 
Its outward beauty and adornment are matters of 
secondary importance. I must attach no great value 
to these, and must take heed that strength and health 
be not sacrificed for their attainment. For he who 
handles the tool is of far more importance than the 
tool itself; and the Christian willingly sacrifices his 
body, if it be necessary for the attainment of his 
highest object— universal happiness. Be it sickness, 
or wounds, or suffering, or death, a magnanimous 
Christian holds these light v/hen there is a question 
of saving the higher goods— truth, right, faith, in- 
nocence, and human happiness. 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 3IQ 

The Christian's greatness of soul does not consist 
in proud disdain of all life's joys ; but to him that 
possesses such greatness, these joys are no more than 
a means of refreshing the body, so as to enable it to 
continue its work with renewed vigour ; and he thinks 
it contemptible to be always hunting after sensuous 
pleasures, and to seek recreation when no labour has 
been performed. He never lets a day pass without 
gracing it with some good deed : he is ready to 
sacrifice every pleasure, if he can thereby increase 
the well-being of others. It is a luxury to him to 
submit to privations, and even to suffering, when he 
can secure thereby the happiness of others. 

Riches, honours, and public esteem are not value- 
less in his eyes, but neither are they objects which he 
Vv'ould purchase at any price. All these advantages, 
which ordinary men idolize^, can neither make nor miar 
the contentment of the Christian sage. To him they 
are but auxiliary means for the achievement of his great 
task, the good of humanity. He knows full v/ell how 
little public esteem is to be relied on ; how ambiguous 
are marks of honour ; and that not all the gold in the 
world can secure lasting inward bhss. He is always 
ready to renounce fame, if he can thereby increase 
the peace and happiness of the human family. He is 
ever ready to sacrifice his fortune, if he can thereby 
diminish the sufferings of man. 

That which comes fi'om the earth, he values as of 
the earth, and even the v/orld's m.ost brilliant prizes 
seem to him not v/orth a sigh. Of what importance 
can it be to him to renounce, a few days or a few 
years sooner or later, that which he knows he must 
eventually give up ? But when we do give it up. 



320 GREATNESS OF SOUL, 

let it be for a noble cause. The largest sum of 
gold is not worth as much as the consciousness of 
having performed one great and godlike action, and 
it is less painful to sacrifice life than our inward 
purity. 

Christian greatness of soul does not consist in 
refusing to defend our own rights, or those of others, 
when they are threatened. All rights conceded to 
us or to others by society are so many conditions for 
acquiring, practising, and retaining the means of 
useful activity. He who from mistaken or maHgnant 
motives destroys these conditions, must be earnestly 
but gently recalled to a sense of his duty. In general, 
such an invader of our rights is called an enemy ; but 
the true Christian has no enemies. He may be 
despised, persecuted, or envied ; but even while de- 
fending himself and his rights, he remains the friend 
of his opponent. He does not shun him with dis- 
pleasure, but respects him as heretofore, and assists 
him, and is kind to him whenever an opportunity 
occurs. And, finally, if no other alternative should be 
open to him than the hard one of either doing wrong 
or sufrering wrong, he does not hesitate to select the 
latter. 

For Christian greatness of soul manifests itself, 
above all, in never-failing love of God and love of 
man — a love which no ingratitude can destroy, which 
makes no difference between friend and foe, and which 
is revealed in deeds more than in words. The Christian 
who has reached this sublime height endeavours at 
every moment of his life, and under all circumstances, 
to do his best, and to be as useful to others as his 
power and capacity will admit of. And whatever he 



GRE^TXESS OF SOUL. 32I 

does, he prefers to do in secret, and not before the eyes 
of men ; yet he does not shun publicity even, if he 
sees that his example may be useful in stimulating 
others to like conduct. 

Whatever may be the position in which God's pro- 
vidence places him, such a Christian's wish and endea- 
vour is to act up to his own highest ideal. Indeed, 
he not only vv^ills so to do, but he does it, for with him 
will and action are one. But he conceals his ov/n 
worth under a veil of modesty \ for what he is and 
what he does, he is not and does not for the sake of 
human approval, for the sake of winning the applause 
of weak mortals, who are too apt to praise even that 
which is no more than the duty of every upright 
person. A deed done for the reward of approbation 
it may bring, deserves the contempt of the truly wise 
and good. Of such deeds God keeps no account. It 
is, on the contrary, the highest distinction of true 
greatness of soul to be ready to make every sacrifice 
for the happiness of others, though this self-immolation 
may never be known to mortal being. The true 
Christian sees no reason to doubt that others act from 
noble motives, though they reach not always the goal 
they aim at ; for he knows that he himself has still to 
combat many weaknesses ; but he feels ashamed at 
beinp- commended for that which is simply the per- 
formance of his duty, and the more so as such praise 
proves that those who dispense it have little claim to 
respect. For he who thinks the mere fulfilment of 
duty worthy of eulogy, gives evidence that he does 
not attend very strictly to the performance of his own. 
And what value has panegyric coming from unworthy 
lips ! 

Y 



322 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 



But even were shame5 persecution, aungeons, and 
scafFolds to be the consequences of a virtuous life, 
virtue is its own reward ; dungeons and scaffolds pass 
away 3 the soul of the righteous is free ; it feels not 
the weight of the fetters that oppress the body. Death 
on the scaffold for a holy cause, or death on the field 
of battle — -wherein doth it differ from death on a bed 
of sickness ? Does the piilov/ on which the dying 
head rests make any difference to a spirit that lives in 
God, for God, and with God ? Hov/ many noble 
souls, whose memory is consecrated by the tears of 
grateful posterity, did not give up their lives under the 
executioner's axe, and amid the imprecations of their 
contemporaries ! Not v/hat others think of us, but 
what vv^e are in ourselves, ought to be of importance 
to us. The character of our actions, not men's judg- 
ments of them, is the thing we have to look to. 
The former only is our own ; the latter depends upon 
outward circumstances. The form.er alone affects 
our dignity, influences our growth in perfection, and 
our happiness ; the latter hardly affects even our out- 
ward circum.stances. Here on earth the sam.e obli- 
vion soon embraces alike the murderer and the mur- 
dered. But God hves, God judges ! 

Thou hvest, O Eternal Upholder of all things ! 
Thou judgest,0 All-righteous Judge ! What is vnj 
.body when dead ? — A discarded garment. What is 
sensuous life v/hen it is concluded ? — An ever-chang- 
ing dream., the events of which fade away as we 
awake. I am a spirit, and all else that clings to me is 
not mine ; but of the dignity and power v/hich my spirit 
has acquired through its activity on earth, it cannot be 
stripped by the hand of death; for such dignity and 



GREATNESS OF SOUL. 323 

power are inherent in that only v/hich is imperishable, 
immortal, and v/hich belongs not to earth. 

To strive after greatness of soul is the highest 
aim of a rational, God-created being ; and this aim 
is not beyond the reach of man. For even Jesus 
was not only apparently a man, yet He performed 
the most exalted actions to prove that, to an earnest 
Vv^il, the greatest perfection is attainable. And, in- 
spired by His v/ords and His example, thousands of 
others have followed in His footsteps. They have 
resolutely, and v/ithout repining, sacrificed fortune, 
friendship, love, power, freedom, and life itself, for 
right and truth, for innocence and virtue, for their 
country, and for the happiness of their fellow-men. 
Why should I not be able to do what they have done ? 
Why should it be impossible because thousands of 
other m^en, held in the tr^mxm.els of their sensuous 
being, doubt that such deeds can be done, or call such 
actions foolish enthusiasm r What is the judgment 
of micn sunk in sensuality and base selfishness, com- 
pared to the judgment of God in my conscience ? 
Though they m.ay be unable to see that that which 
is of the earth is but dust and ashes ; though they 
may be incapable of sacrificing the perishable for 
the imperishable, this is no reason v/hy I should be 
equally degenerate. O Jesus Christ ! Perfect and 
Divine Man ! Ensample of what spirits ought to 
alta;n to in this v/orld ! Thou in v/hom I behold 
God and nature united ! Thou v/ho art one and the 
same v/ith God and nature ! — hast Thou not set me an 
example ? The world of m.en that surrounded Thee 
understood Thee not, O Holy Power of God ! They 
looked to dust and ashes ; to outward might and social 

y ?. 



324 GREATNESS OF SOUL. 

relations. Thou didst smilingly spurn with Thy foot 
the earth and its perishable concerns, holding in view 
only the relation between Thee and Thy Father. 

I will be as Thou wert, O Jesus ! When an 
infant I was consecrated in baptism as a follower of 
Thine, and, true to the baptismal vows made for me, 
I will walk in Thy footsteps ; I will study Thy life 
and Thy doctrines ; I will leave nought undone to 
attain greatness of soul, spiritual freedom, and likeness 
to God ! The struggle with my sensuous desires 
and tendencies will often be a hard one ; but God 
will give me strength and courage to persevere. 
Amen ! 



THAT WHICH IS OF GOD MUST ULTI- 
MATELY TRIUMPH. 

Hark ! from the deep abyss 
Resounds the victory-song of highest bliss ! 

Of all God's sons the glorious jubilee. 
Where now shall the false deities be found ? 
Death's terrors ? All in peace lie hushed and bound, 

And stilled the triumph of their mockery. 
So had the rebel ones, the powers of hell, 

Thus sank in deep despair, been silenced never, 
But power Divine, which every foe can quell, 

O'er the destro3^ers has prevailed for ever. 

Higher, and yet still higher, 
Devotion, let thine altar-Harries aspire ! 

He from the darkness of the tomb is risen ; 
He lent His body to the dust to save 
His holy ones, and sanctify the grave. 

And now the chains of death for aye are riven. 
Henceforth, ye graves, 'neath angels' watching laid, 

The resurrection's seed your bounds contain — 
What is divine, what God hath holy made. 

Victorious over all, in life shall reign. 

(Matt, xxviil. 11-15.) 

Sometimes when I reflect on the noble life of Jesus, 
I ask myself. But how is it possible that all the world 
should not have loved this heavenly character whose 
heart was so full of love for all ? Why did His con- 
temporaries persecute Him, when even His judges 
feared to condemn Him ^ What evil had He done ? 
He taught peace and concord, and self-denial and 
entire devotion to the will of God, that is, to all that 
is virtuous and good. He lived a life of extreme 



3'26 I'HAT WHICH IS OF GOD 

humility, and envied not the great, transgressed no 
law of the land ; giving joy to others, healing the 
sick, comforting the sorrov/ing, and restoring the lost 
happiness of many families, He walked almost joyless 
through a world which misjudged Him to the very 
last. 

How is it possible that He who v/as so simple and 
true, could be misjudged ? What v/as His crime, that 
His fellow-citizens, or at least by far the greater 
number of them, should persecute Him even unto 
death ? 

If Jesus, the Messiah, had appeared in our day ; if 
He had lived and taught in the midst of us, would 
scorn, disdain, and persecution have been His reward, 
as it was in those days ? 

I would fain answer, nay ; so inhuman, so barbarous, 
so utterly unfeeling the present generation is not ; n-o/y^ 
such injustice our judges, our rulers, could not allov/ 
to be done by others, and still less could they be 
guilty of it themselves. 

I would fain speak thus. But then, v/hen I con- 
sider that man has, at all times and among all nations, 
ever shov/n himself the same as regards his violent and 
selfish passions ; when I call to mind the murders and 
other terrible deeds which v/e have witnessed even 
in our ov/n day ; v/hen I recollect how * thousands 
of innocent victims of the highest rank, as Vv^ell as of 
the lowest, have been dragged to the scaffold on 
mere suspicion, or on account of their opinions only, 
I shudder, and am forced to confess that even among 
us, in the present day, Jesus the sinless would not 

* During the French Revolution. 



MUSr ULriMATELT TRIUMPH. 327 

be secure. Among us also He would find sanguinary 
persecutors, traitors, merciless accusers, and judges 
who desecrate justice hj holding a hum^an life in small 
account, if they consider it their interest to sacrifice 
it. Nay, my Jesus, even amongst us Thou wouldst 
not have been safe ; and the very persons who now 
kneel before Thee in temples which they have reared 
to Thee, and Vv^ho pray to Thee with fervour, because 
they tremble before Thee as the Judge of the World, 
would attack Thee as an enthusiast or a revolutionist, 
as a blasphem.er and heretic, as an enemy of the ex- 
isting state of things, a fearful innovator, wert ThoXi 
to appear amiongst us in Thy unpretending, simplicity, 
full of the Divine Spirit in word and action, but in the 
lov/ly garb of one of the humble classes of the people. 
For as of yore, so to-day, mortals judge according to 
appearances. And as of yore, so to-day, unbending 
pride and ail-sacrificing selfishness Vv^age v-ar against 
everything that is opposed to their interests. 

I cannot, therefore, extol the present tim.es above 
those in v/hich the Saviour lived. I am forced to 
confess with failing heart, that on the day of judg- 
ment, the voice m.ay be heard addressing us also, and 
saying : " I have been am-ong you and you refused to 
acknov/ledge me ; I v/as a stranger, and ye took me 
not in ; I was naked, and ye clothed me not ; I v/as 
sick and in prison, and ye visited me not." And many 
of our number v/ill cry as the men spoken of in the 
Gospel : '' I/ord, when saw we Thee ? " And He 
will answer and say : " Verily, I say unto you, In- 
asmxuch as ye did -it not to one of the least of these, 
ye did it not to me." (Matt. xxv. 33-45.) 

Yea, even in this day Christ is among us, and we 




328 TH^r TP'HICH IS OF GOD 

know Him not. Animated by His benevolent spirit^ 
many a friend of humanity endeavours to promote 
what is good ; but is slandered and persecuted because 
what he proposes is in opposition to the worldly in- 
terests of some mighty personage. Animated by the 
spirit of Jesus, many a wise man seeks to establish 
truth and justice upon earth; but he is railed at as 
an impudent innovator and reformer, because others 
fear that his teachings will lower the consideration 
in which they themselves are held. Animated by the 
spirit of Jesus, many a virtuous man is willing to 
sacrifice himself for the common welfare, but the 
selfish world calls his noble disinterestedness foolish 
enthusiasm, or hypocritical craftiness, and refuses to 
believe that a man of humble origin, of small means, 
and in lowly garb, is capable of more sublime acts 
than the high and mighty. 

In Hke manner the greater number of benefactors 
of mankind have from the eariiest ages ever been 
despised and disowned by the generation among which 
they lived : they were objects of scorn or abomination 
to the great and learned filled with pharisaical conceit, 
or to the blind m.ultitude sunk in ignorance ; chains 
and dungeons have been their lot, the cup of poison 
or the martyr's stake their reward. 

For those v/ho wisely and earnestly, and full of 
Godlike zeal, declare war against the crimes and 
vices of common life, convert the sinful world into an 
implacable enemy. Those who in mental power and 
insight are far in advance of their times, and who 
endeavour to lift up poor degraded humanity to their 
own level, are not understood, but are misjudged and 
slandered. Those who would banish from the world 



MUST ULTIMATELT TRIUMPH. 329 

all wrong-doing and injustice, must expect to be ob- 
jects of vengeance to those who live by the spoils of 
iniquity. The industrious hand that would clear the 
garden of the Lord of hurtful weeds, must expect to 
be stung and wounded by the nettles and the thorns 
which it endeavours to uproot. 

In proportion to the depression which these reflec- 
tions must cause to a pious mind, that delights in all 
excellence, must be the quickening and soul-elevating 
consolation afforded by the great event, the com- 
memoration of which v/e celebrate on Easter Sunday. 

Jesus Messiah was dead ! His friends, dispersed 
and discouraged, wept in secret the tears of uncon- 
querable grief. But the spirit of hell rejoiced, for 
the Messiah was no more. The Scribes and the 
Pharisees looked down triumphantly from the altitude 
of their pride, for He whom they so much feared had 
bled to death on the cross : His holy heart had 
ceased to beat. He lay buried in the rocky cavern, 
a prey to corruption. Even His ashes they v/ould not 
give up to those that loved Him ; and a great stone 
was therefore rolled before the entrance to the grave- 
vault, and it was furthermore sealed up. 

But, to their terror and surprise, an earthquake 
shook the proud palaces of Jerusalem, and opened the 
graves. Jesus the Messiah was no longer to be found 
in the vault of the dead : He walked openly through 
the land, and appeared before His beloved ones. 
Trembling with fear, the soldiers who had been set to 
ivatch the body and the tomb, the stone and the seals, 
fled into the holy city. Levites and high-priests heard 
the wonderful tidings. Their pride refused to believe, 
and they denied it. 



330 THAJ WEIGH IS OF GOD 

Bat in vain was their denial. They held counsel 
with the elders of the city. In vain ; for what can the 
councils of men eiTect against the judgments of God ? 
They gave the soldiers money that they might say 
that His disciples had come in the night and stolen the 
body while they slept. In vain ; the dumb stones 
spoke. The v/itnesses spoke, who had met Him 
after He had risen from the dead. The miracles 
v/rought on earth spoke ; the action of H^eaven 
through the entire history of the v/orld gave evidence. 
Christ had arisen. The disciples sav/ Him, took 
courage again, and believed. Filled v/iih a high and 
holy joy, they visited all parts of the earth, and 
preached the doctrine of Him v/ho had risen from 
the dead. The symbol of His ignominious death on 
Golgotha became the sign of the triumph of the 
Church universal. Kings and peoples worshipped 
the exalted One, and His name becam.e their highest 
glory, and Jesus' v/ords of redemption sounded 
through the high places of the v/orld, through the 
burning deserts of the South, through the ice-iields 
of the North, and reached far-distant realm^s, and 
islands beyond the vast world-ocean. 

In vain does the power of man struggle against 
that which comes from God. That v/kich is Di- 
vine CAN NEVER BE DESTROYED. Though it may 
for a time be suppressed, be of good cheer; it will 
triumph at last. The grave itself v/i!l become a 
monument of glory, and the instruments of torture 
v/ill become trophies of victory. 

Therefore, be of good cheer, O ye of little faith, 
who venture into the turmoil of the world full of 
virtuous resolutions, but v/ho soon retire trembling 



TdUSr UL'TIMArELT TRIUAIPH. 33 1 

before the storm of envy, before the scornful laughter 
of the sinfu], before the anger of roused selfishness; 
and who, though desirous of acting nobly, are equally 
desirous of not displeasing your fellow-men. No 
man can serve two masters ! If thou hast com- 
mended thy concerns to rieaven, what hast thou to 
demand of the world ? If thou wouldst serve the 
cause of God, what is to thee the hatred of the 
enemies of virtue ? 

• Take courage, O noble and Virtuous m.an, who, 
led by holy convictions, wouldst fain do good and im- 
prove the condition and happiness of the human race. 
Complete thy work : hope for the encouraging bless- 
ing of a few noble-minded m.en only, while the great 
multitude v/ill hoot at thee, and in its ignorance and sel- 
fishness will persecute thee with hatred. And shouldst 
thou fall — shouldst thou^-become the victim of malig- 
nant opponents — v/hat Vv^iit thou have lost ? Thy 
earthly happiness may be destroyed, but not the great 
ideas for v/hich tnou didst sacrifice the comforts and 
pleasures of life. Thy blood may flov/ at the hands 
of miurderers, but thy spirit v/ill soar triumphantly 
above the world. Champion of virtue, give up thy- 
self, but not the holy cause of humianiry, not that 
which is Divine in thy convictions. These cannot 
be destroyed, for God upholds them ! 

That v/hich is Divine cannot be extinguished ! It 
will have to struggle against the. hostile influences of 
this world, but it v/ill triumph at last. 

We learn this from the wonderful event v/hich 
every Christian joyfully commemorates on Easter 
Sunday ; and v/e learn it from many scarcely less 
wonderful events in the world's history. This fact is 



332 THAT WHICH IS OF GOD 

the most exalted and most indubitable proof which we 
have that a Divine Providence rules above. 

Truth is Divine. For God is the Spirit of truth. 
And never has a truth perished out of the world, how- 
ever violently, however long, the nations or their rulers 
may have struggled against it. It has ever risen 
above the power of every obstruction, and, though 
perhaps after long ages of combat, has finally triumphed 
all the more gloriously. 

Every new truth is more or less in conflict with the 
cherished objects and the deep-rooted prejudices of 
certain classes, or at all events with their received 
opinions and established customs. It has therefore 
to sustain a hard struggle against the circumstances 
of the times. It is a lump of leaven, which causes 
the whole mass to ferment in secret. But this very 
fermentation is a precursor of the inevitable victory ; 
it is a dissolving and separating of that which has 
grown old and useless, to make way for that which is 
newer and better. Truth triumphs, though often 
above the graves of those who first proclaimed and 
defended it. 

Therefore tremble not before the power of earthly 
tyrants, who, fearing the light, would fain continue 
to reign in darkness, and in consequence, prepare 
exile, prisons, and scaffolds, for the witnesses of 
truth. That which is spiritual cannot be destroyed 
with earthly weapons. Fear may for a time tame all 
tongues ; but no power can stay the silent activity of 
the mind. No mortal, even were all the crowns of 
the earth gathered on his head, rules the spiritual 
v/orld : there God's sceptre alone holds sway ! Herod 
once in cruel madness ordered all the children in 



MUST ULriMATELT TRIUMPH, 333 

Bethlehem to be murdered ; and yet to this day, two 
thousand years after the event, a redeemed world cele- 
brates the triumph of the truths taught by the Child 
of Bethlehem, whose death the wicked king tried to 
compass. High-priests and scribes defended with the 
utmost fury the laws of Moses and the traditional 
reverence of the people for the sacred places of 
Jerusalem, against the preachers of the Gospel ; 
but Jerusalem and her temples were reduced to ruins, 
and the followers of Moses were dispersed through 
the world, and the Gospel of Jesus has become the 
pride of the most civilized portion of the human race. 

Full of indignation against eternal truth, the priests 
of the heathen deities struggled valiantly against the 
first followers of Jesus. The Roman emperors pro- 
ceeded with ruthless fury against the contemners of 
the old-established national religion, and the false 
altars. In vain. These altars were dashed to pieces ; 
the power of Rome, before which the world had 
trembled, was laid' prostrate in the dust ; and above 
the graves of the murdered disciples of Jesus rose the 
temples of the One true God. 

That which is Divine cannot perish ; and Divine 
is the innocence and righteousness of every virtuous 
man. For God is the Father of righteousness, the 
Holiest of Beings. 

The shortsightedness and passionate impulsiveness 
of men render it impossible for them at all times and 
at once to recognize the full value of what is right and 
good. As each man has experiences and views dif- 
ferent from those of others, and as it is in accordance 
with these that he judges what he sees, he generally 
pronounces that false, erroneous and bad, which does 



334 '^-^^^'^ TFHICH IS OF GOD 

not harmonize v/ith his previous notions. V/hen to 
this is added the melancholy tendency in human nature 
to be more prone to believe evil of others than good, 
it is easy to understand how even the most righteous 
men come to be misjudged, and how the innocent 
become objects of calumny, and of the most unmerited 
hatred. 

Unfortunately, the virtue of common-place persons 
is rarely strong enough to resist unexpected storms. 
They cannot bear persecution even for the sake of a 
righteous cause. Their hearts are either filled with 
cowardice, and they desert the good cause in order 
not to lose the favour of impotent man, and thus re- 
nounce virtue in order not to renounce their comforts ; 
or they fall into the opposite error, of hating, and 
bitterly despising their fellow-men. Thus many have 
by their uncalled-for violence and passionate temx- 
perament placed impediments in the v/ay of the good 
they sought to promote, and which others opposed 
out of narrow-minded ignorance. Thus m.any a 
good man, v/ho v/ou!d willingly have sacrificed him- 
self for virtue, had his honest intentions but been 
recognized by others, has become discouraged and 
indifferent, or, despairing of convincing his narrow- 
hearted and selfish neighbours of the excellence of the 
object he held in viev^, he has sunk down to the level 
of those v/hom formerly he despised with full right. 

But this is not the mode of action of the true 
Christian, v/ho v/alks in the path of the great Teacher, 
whose example is ever before him. He does not 
forget what jesus, the Righteous, bore for the sake of 
righteousness He does not forget that his Master 
voluntarily sufl'ered death to promote the welfare of 



MUST ULriMATELT TRIUMPH. 



333 



mankindj and how other great and good men, filled 
with the spirit of Jesus, foUov/ed in His footsteps. 
He does not forget that perseverance leads to success, 
and that what is right, and truly good, and Divine can 
never perish. He does not forget the words v/hich 
Jesus has left as an encouragement to those who 
would follov/ Him in the thorny path of self-sacrifice^ 
for the welfare of others : ^' Fear not those who can 
only kill the body!" Indeed, what is life compared 
to the triumph of virtue ? To die for the good of 
mankind is a far more desirable fate than thatof Kving 
a few short days longer, with the consciousness and 
shame of having acted like a coward. 

That which is of God can never perish ! Defy all 
threats and tortures, O ye righteous ones, v/hom. the 
world condemns, and rejoice in your sublime callino- 
to suffer for virtue. Yq- are v/alking in the thorny 
but glorious path of Jesus. Not to every one was 
this happiness given by the combination of circum- 
stances and events. However bitterly the evil-dis- 
posed may rail against you, your innocence is a 
Heavenly shield which v/ill turn oir every barb aimed 
at your hearts. Fight out the battle to the last, 
shielded by your innocence, and keeping your eves 
fixed on God in heaven, and you will win the crov/n 
of eternal life and glory. By acting thus I v/ill prove 
myself Thy disciple, O Jesus, Thou who hast risen 
from the dead. Thy life shall he my mirror. Thy 
death m.y salvation, and Thy resurrection shall be to 
me a sign of the imperishable nature of all that comes 
from God. Should I renounce virtue because of 
poverty, or of the scorn and hatred of the evil- 
minded ? Ah, no ! even poverty and scorn arc not so 



336 THAT WHICH IS OF GOD 

bitter as death. But should I, even to avoid death, 
renounce the cause of virtue ? Nay ; because virtue, 
that which is Divine, is eternal, and my spirit also 
is eternal. My spirit also comes from God, partakes 
of the Divine nature, and cannot perish. 

Yea, I also shall rise from the dead ; my spirit also 
shall one day, when the veil of dust is rent in which 
God has clothed it, go forth to greater glory ; and 
if it has remained worthy of its exalted origin, the 
hand of God v/ill array it in a new and more glorious 
garb. 

Son of the Eternal, Thou didst rise triumphantly 
above the grave and above earthly death. I also, a 
child like Thee of the Eternal Father, shall one day 
rise victoriously above my lifeless corpse. And while 
the tears of my earthly kindred fall upon the deserted 
clay, my enraptured spirit will soar towards my Hea- 
venly kindred, to celebrate more worthily with them 
the triumph of the Divine in the universe. 

Father, mother, why stand ye so pale and full of 
lamentations by the bier of your beloved child ? Has 
Christ not risen ? Can the Divine principle perish 
which once animated the dust above which ye now 
sorrow so bitterly ? Pious daughter, noble son, why 
grieve so unceasingly for your departed father, your 
tender mother ? Why weep because that which is 
Divine returns triumphantly into the bosom of the 
Deity ? In like manner Jesus, having completed 
His task in life, returned to the Heavenly abodes. li\ 
like manner the Divine spark in thee will, perhaps 
sooner than thou dost expect, return to the source 
of all blessedness. 

Every righteous endeavour here below is a triumph 



i ! 



MUST ULriMATELT TRIUMPH. 337 

of that v/-hich is Heavenly over that which is earthly ; 
is an exchange of earthly thraldom for Heavenly 
freedom ; is a victory of life over death. 

Did not the disciples of Jesus cease to weep when 
they found His rock tomb open, and beheld their 
Master again wonderfully transfigured ? When they 
saw H^im again for one brief moment only, as in a 
dream, after v/hich Hie disappeared from among them, 
because His v/ork was done ? Disconsolate parents, 
orphans, husbands, wives, and friends, those for 
whom ye v/eep no longer sleep in the tomb. The 
Lord of Life harh called them, back into His bosom, 
in order to render still more perfect the bhss you v/ill 
experience in the hour of death, when you have com- 
pleted your virtuous career on earth. Would you 
not suffer more painfully when taking your last fare- 
well of this world, if you llad to leave behind you 
those you so dearly loved ? 

Jesus, Thou hast risen from the dead, and Thou 
art m.y light and m.y comfort. Thy victory is my 
victory; Thy death is my immortality; Thy resur- 
rection my triumph. 



FINIS. 



Woodfall and Kinder, Printeis, Angel Court, Skinner Street. 



In One Volume^ 8vo, price los. 6d. 

Meditations on Death and Eternity. 

Translated from the German by Frederica Rowan-. 

PubUshed by Her Majesty'' s Gracious Permission. 



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Also recently published^ the 8vo edition, 
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Meditations 07t Life and its Religious 
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Translated from the German by Frederica Rowan. 

Published by Her Majesty's Grackus Permission. 
DEDICATED TO H.R.H. PRINCESS LOUIS OF HESSE. 

Being the Companion Volume to 
MEDITATIONS ON DEJTH AND ETERNITT. 







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